Time in a Bottle
by Icklekins
Summary: Sarah has forgotten the Labyrinth, while Toby is just learning it. And of course, Jareth has a plan. M for adult themes. New chapter up!
1. one: from Sarah

_Hey all! Author here... obviously. Since I started this story two years ago, I feel like I might have lost a little in the later chapters in comparison to what I started out with in the beginning. It's a pretty common thing, I think, to lose what you had when you started a story. To remedy, I've gone back through and edited the story for grammar, as well as contextual errors. Some areas have been rearranged to make more sense, or dropped altogether. The original story is still here, though the more I write the more the characters take over and want to take the story somewhere else. I would be a horrible author if I didn't listen to the characters, so the ending is changed drastically from what it once was supposed to be, and as a result I think I need to make the middle bits more consistent with what will happen. The changes will only be slight, so slight you probably won't notice if you've already read it once. Thank you to the original readers and supporters of this story - I promise I will finish it, even if it takes me a while. Real life can be, well, too real sometimes.  
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_Mostly-original AN:_

_This story is presented from the points of views of several characters to give you the best depth possible for understanding the story. While I could have done an omnipresent style, I feel that the differing perspectives of the characters is what will help you better understand motivations and ultimately the characters themselves.  
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_As a disclaimer, I do not own any part of Labyrinth or the characters, though I do think David Bowie is the sex._

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Sarah rolled over in her bed. Her stomach wobbled, and she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the waves of feeling sweeping over her. Her arm folded up over her eyes to block out the sun filtering through the curtains, trying to remember the dream she had been having. It had been wonderful, she had been at a wonderful ball, dressed elegantly, and there had been a masked man, darting in and out of the crowd. All she could remember was the strong desire to find him and dance with him, but the feeling was overpowered by something else, the desire to find something she couldn't really put her finger on, and betrayal at this masked stranger, disgust. Her stomach lurched again and she couldn't ignore it, she practically fell out of bed trying to make it to the bathroom in time.

From the cozy, sunlit bedroom, the distinct sound of wretching could be heard, of someone miserably bent over a toilet trying their best to sound graceful. Sarah had always possessed a strange kind of grace, one that her dad had always told her she had gotten from her mom. He had also said she had gotten her mother's sense of imagination too, which Sarah used more in her acting than anything else. Her current play was the biggest she had ever been in, and drew the reviews of magazines and newspapers from all over the country. Sarah Williams-Brown was a famous actress, the star in a hit show about a small-town girl who, while struggling with the death of her estranged father, falls in love with the unlikely hero and plucky comic relief.

Patrick Brown, who had starred with her in one of their college plays oh-so long ago as the gentleman who falls in love with the fair maiden, woke to the sound of the toilet being flushed. Sarah's slim form pressed in-between the sheets and she put her arm back over her eyes, but the dream was gone, and she sighed, resigned to her day. It was early rehearsals for her, and Pat would be going to work later, and they would maybe meet for lunch, and then later would both get home and have a quiet dinner before bed. Then again… Pat's hand was tracing her outline and she smiled, rolling over on her arm to face him. He never made things boring, that was for sure.

She smiled and leaned in for a kiss, her brunette hair sweeping over her face, and he tucked her locks behind her ear. When they were in college, he had been the most romantic, most thoughtful of all the boyfriends she had given the time of day. He was as creative as she was, and even more spontaneous. He treated her like a princess, loved her like a goddess, and did his best to make her happy. They had been friends before they fell in love, and that was important to Sarah. He could respect her and give her space when she needed, and that was important too. When she first realized she loved him, she could have sworn that she heard someone cry, and it felt like somewhere a heart was breaking, but a gentle breeze blew that away and she forgot about the memory of the face that almost appeared with that sob, and it was over.

Now, two years later and well into a good marriage, Sarah's past was all but a shadow in her mind. Pat's acting was taking him into movies, while she clung to the stage, each relishing in their performance space and audience. Her past… Sarah had only ever told Pat what she thought really happened, about the doctors and medicines, about how she had awoken from a long, foggy dream and how she tried to put her foolishness behind her. 'Besides,' she had said as they had cuddled after she told him all she remembered, 'that's not even possible. No wonder my parents were so worried.'

Of course, Patrick only heard what Sarah wanted to tell. Even though she was honest, about her parents coming home to discover she had hit her head after a tumble, and how she had 'hallucinated' about a giant labyrinth, and creatures, and a man who's image was quickly fading from her memory as she explained the story even to her parents. Of course, even after her spill she continued to see the creatures, and they had adventures, and shared stories, but her parents couldn't see them, and being worried about their daughter sought help.

After much fuss, Sarah was convinced that they weren't real, that she was suffering from hitting her head, and that it was all a composite from her imagination, toys, and stories. For a time, she didn't want to believe it, but after an extended stay at a clinic, and none of her friends appeared when she called for them like usual, she resigned that perhaps she was sick and needed help after all. A few more months on medication had set her right as rain according to her doctors, and she went on at school to continue her acting as she had been working on it before. Her 'personality changes' that were elicited by her 'tumble' – which Sarah at the time attributed to her time spent in the Labyrinth but later gave up on – were almost a one-eighty from where she had been before that fateful night. These changes worried her parents, but in the long run they were glad for her growing up.

After her ordeal and suffering, and really due to the medications she was on, Sarah started to forget the things that she had been so adamant on believing in. Perhaps it was giving into the rational thinking pressed upon her by others and believe it to be the truth, replacing the actuality of her past, or maybe it was watching the video of herself talking to thin air, holding on a detailed conversation. Whatever it was that had been in her mind before was gone and buried. Sarah was not the same, dream-ridden girl who had wished away her baby brother – who she was still very fond of and pampered whenever she could – but a reasonable, quiet-tempered adult who had a calm fierceness about her.

Such is life, some would say, to put away childish things when we become adults. So Sarah had put aside her childish things and behavior in favor of a more subdued adulthood.

Pat knew some of why Sarah talked in her sleep, why she dreamed the same thing over and over, why she could never quite remember the details, but since she didn't know the missing pieces, neither did he. It was frustrating for the both of them, because he wanted her to be happy, and she wanted to remember the exact details of it all, but as time passed, it became more and more like smoke on the fading horizon. Her fantasies and dreams were just wishful thinking, while her career, her marriage, her passion for theatre, those were real and she could touch them… Her fingers wound themselves around Pat's and she blushed softly as he kissed her hand.

"Breakfast this morning my sweet?"

"No," she sighed, listening to the angry grumble of her empty, but queasy, stomach. "I think I'll grab something at the sound stage. But I'll enjoy a cup of coffee with you while you eat, if you don't mind me getting ready while you cook."

"Sure thing." He kissed her lips softly and then was gone, padding out the door of their expansive home and down toward the kitchen.

It was and had always been his domain, the kitchen, since he could cook miles ahead of her, around her, and always took joy in fixing her something. She never went hungry, that was for sure, even when they were first married and things were tight. She got out of bed again, her stomach lurching as she did so, and as she made her way to the bathroom she could hear the sound of something being fried in a pan, and the wafting smell of bacon teased her nose.

Sarah considered a bath before she started the shower, and enjoyed the hot water rolling down her back. Her nausea was feeling better already, and it was as if she hadn't felt ill at all… what a silly way to start the day. Besides, she had felt ill for the last week and had managed to make it through work and all very well, why did she have to throw up today? Tomorrow was performance night and she couldn't rightly fall ill. Her understudy was good, but the producers of a few Broadway shows were going to be there and it was important that she be her best.

The hot water was delicious and she washed herself slowly, still thinking about the dream she had. Why was it always the same dream, why did it relate to a head injury she had almost ten years ago? It wasn't like it happened yesterday, or like any of it was real, but it _felt_ so real in her dream, as though she had been standing there. It was disturbing that the things that so many people had told her weren't real kept appearing in her dreams. She would have to make a note of seeing her therapist before too long, so that she could ask what the dreams meant.

Slowly, carefully, Sarah got out of the shower. It was her favorite time of day, when she could be alone in the running water, thinking. She loved to think, and the water helped a lot, for whatever reason. It was always such a sad moment when the hot water ran out. She could smell fried eggs and toast cooking, probably a typical 'Pat breakfast' as she called it – he never did anything small, and he never overlooked anything. He was a very romantic guy, and she did love him, but sometimes he was so overbearing it was ridiculous, but despite it she still found herself irrevocably attracted to him, crazy in love with him.

She wrapped her towel up around herself, drying her long hair with a second towel, when she hit a slick spot on the floor and headed toward the toilet with such speed that it was dizzying. In a ninja-fast move Sarah shot out a hand and caught herself on the edge of the bathtub, which pulled her arm in an awkward position behind her back that would probably require ice later. She fell a little and her temple hit the edge of the tub in her save, but her reach had saved her from knocking her head on the toilet, floor, and cracking open her skull. The impact was minor compared to what it might have been.

She seethed quietly and lifted herself up, shaking slightly. It was more shock than actual pain, but she still decided to look to see if it was going to goose-egg, bruise, or just leave a red mark. A trembling hand wiped away the steam that had formed on the glass and she peered closely, making sure that it wasn't anything serious. Just as she was satisfied with what she saw, and pulled back to get a full reflection, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a crinkled face, bulbous nose and wispy hair. She turned around, frightened, recognizing the little man from one of her dreams, but there was no one there. She turned back to the mirror, afraid it would still be there, and it was. It smiled again, and said simply, "Sarah."

She screamed and tore out of the bathroom, landing in her bed and pulling the covers over her head, still screaming. She lay there, naked and trembling, until Patrick arrived, soothing her with his baritone voice and convincing her that there wasn't anything in the room, and that she needed to come out so he could see what was wrong. She cried a little when he finally pulled the covers from her head, and she glanced around wildly. Her terrified behavior was so unlike the woman he married that Pat clung to her, holding her until she calmed down enough to tell him what happened.

"Do you… think you might have done damage when you hit your head, do you think it might be bringing up old hallucinations?" His voice was soft and gentle in a way that was reserved for very special occasions, and it made Sarah listen and lean against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"I don't know," she told him quietly. "I don't know."


	2. two: from Toby

Toby was hot. Why his mother insisted upon him wearing this wretched outfit he didn't know; most of the other people in the theatre were wearing softer things, and in his eleven year-old mind it was simply ridiculous that he wear a suit to his sister's play. Karen had let him go alone at Sarah's insistence, and for this Toby was glad. He didn't exactly hate his mother, but she was completely overwhelming and embarrassing, and would have made a spectacle of herself with him there. Besides, she had already seen it opening night, and had made him stay home with a baby sitter, which he felt he was far too old for.

The lights in the theatre flashed and the people around him started taking their seats and the voices grew softer, and he looked around in the dimming lights at the hundreds of faces all eagerly awaiting his Sarah. He had stayed at her house when she was still learning the play, so he knew some of the lines, and Sarah and Pat sometimes talked about it at dinner whenever they came over. In general Toby thought that the play by itself was pretty good, but Sarah made it the best. The lights in the room were now dark, and the lights on the large stage drew up and illuminated a simple setting. Sarah was sitting at a desk, writing something, dressed in a pretty pale blue dress and black shoes. Her hair was pinned up behind her head, and she was stunning. The action of the scene began and Toby sank backwards into his seat, enjoying the emotion of her character, and the humor that she managed to give the serious character.

At intermission Toby managed to push his way backstage amid the throng of people eager to see a glimpse of Sarah, as he had been backstage with her before, and wandered his way toward her dressing room. The air was stifling back here, probably from all the lights, and the bodies pressed together trying to get makeup and hair done, the director was calling out for someone and the din of the actors was a simple buzz rather than overkill. The throes of people were louder than the actors, which Sarah always said was because actors are supposed to be quiet backstage. Even the fans that were running to circulate air were quiet. He knocked on her door.

"Come in." He heard her call softly, and he opened the door a crack and stuck his head in.

"Sarah, is it all right for me to…" He couldn't even finish his sentence when he saw Sarah sitting in front of her mirror, her face long and quiet. He slipped into the room quietly and pulled a folding chair next to hers. The lights on the mirror cast a pale, yellow glow all around her and lit her features up, but he could tell her face was ashen. He reached out for her hand and she met him half-way, and it was clammy.

"I don't feel so well Toby," she murmured, using the back of her left hand to deftly pat at the corners of her mouth. He let go of her hand and leaned forward in his chair, his anxious, bright eyes peering over the dimmed green in hers, and touched her forehead with the back of his hand, as their mom had done to him when he was younger. She wasn't warm, but still didn't feel right.

"Do you need a doctor, should I tell the direct-"

"No, Toby." Her voice was firm but gentle, and she looked up at him, and reached out and hugged him, holding his stiff suit against her cheek. When she let go he had a little smudge of her makeup on his jacket and she laughed, the sound of it like a tinkle of small shards of glass against one another. A wet towelette was retrieved from one of the drawers and she patted at the stain delicately, but her hands stopped and she looked up at him again.

"I'm fine, really. I've just been sick, is all. Probably bad mayonnaise from the pasta." Her eyes sparkled a little, very faintly, and Toby saw his sister slowly coming back. "You know, I've always been sure that the caterer has been jealous of me and planned for me to get so sick I can't go on." She smiled faintly and winked.

"The old hairnet lady?" Toby said, eyes wide, feigning innocence. He loved playing along with Sarah, always had, and this little invention was a sure sign that whatever it was had to be passing. "I'm sure she's at least in on it… I've seen the way the assistant director glares when you nail your lines perfectly." He sat back down, and Sarah went about touching up her makeup, smiling more broadly now.

A few moments passed in silence and Toby fidgeted, gazing at the clippings of Sarah on the wall, the images of her mom on her mirror, the many brushes and containers of creams and powders required of an actress. He felt awkward just sitting there, not saying anything, so he stood up and went to the small table in her room lined with water bottles and fruit, and picked up a bunch of grapes, and turned around, popping a few into his mouth. He chewed and watched Sarah gaze at him through her mirror, and she smiled directly at him now, and he smiled back. It was moments like these that he always treasured between the two of them.

"You're doing really good out there," he told her coming back to his chair, and was about to sit down when a voice came over the intercom, announcing that intermission was almost over and people should find their seats again. "Break a leg," he called as he made for the door instead, giving her a reassuring look as he slipped through the door again. He stopped short on second though and turned, about to go back in, but instead caught sight of Sarah hunched over her dressing table. He watched her from a crack in the door, and she buried her head in her hands, and stifled a cry.

There was something wrong, at least, something in her heart that she didn't want to share with him. She had a few things like that, but it never bothered Toby much. His mom said sometimes older sisters have secrets that they don't like to talk about, and it was rude to try and ask. Then again, his mom also kept Sarah's old room locked, and hid the key. There was something about Sarah that frightened her, he thought, or something in that room that frightened her. Sarah didn't seem to mind it at all and never spoke of it, but when Sarah had moved out she seemed upset that her room had been locked up, but that had been the end of it. There was something darker going on that Toby could feel, something that Sarah didn't want to talk about just now. He felt also that the answer was probably in her old room somehow, but just how he couldn't quite place, like a half-remembered dream.

He squeezed his way back into the theatre and down to his seat just as the intermission was over, but couldn't focus on the play for the rest of the night, his mind broken by the thoughts of Sarah crying as he left the room. Had he upset her, or was she just sick, or..? The thoughts plagued him one after the other, and as he tried to rationalize it, it just made things worse. He gave up toward the end of the play and decided to just go home instead, and call Sarah in the morning to find out if she was feeling any better. He knew that trying to reach her after the show would be impossible, since the media would want a piece of her, and then Pat would come and they would go for dinner together and go home.

The end of the play came and the curtain call was marvelous. Sarah was tossed a lovely bouquet of flowers and she blushed when she caught them. Toby was proud of her and clapped louder than anyone around him. He left the theatre for the main hall just as the cast was emerging from backstage to meet and greet, and he turned to go meet his father, who he could was waiting for him. Suddenly, he heard his name called above the din of cameras snapping and flashing and people gushing about the show. He turned and saw Sarah standing there, smiling, flushed and finally full of color. He ran to her open arms and hugged her, glad she had called for him, and the people around them cooed and awed over the reaction. He was about to pull away but found her arms locked around him, unwilling to let him go.

"Toby," she whispered into his ear. "I feel better now, don't worry about me."

She let him go then, and kissed him on his cheek; but as the crowd surged in around her and before he lost sight of her, she had a sad smile on her face, like one of the poetic stars of a black and white movie. He stared after her as long as he could, until he heard his father's voice behind him telling him to get a move on or traffic would be awful.

On the ride home, Toby gazed out the window and thought about how clammy Sarah's hand had felt in his, and why she had cried again when she thought he had gone, and her reassurance after the play. He might have been young, but he couldn't be fooled so easily as one might think. Sarah was sad about something, or at least her mind was occupied by something, and he would have to figure out what. He was still set on calling her in the morning and finding out about how she was, and hoping that she would reveal something to him, either in her voice, or just by telling him. He hated not knowing what was going on, and he fell asleep that night wondering what could bring his sister down like this.

The morning broke early for Toby and he raced out of bed and downstairs, trying to get to the phone before his mom or dad were awake since it was a Sunday and they were both off of work. To his great and eternal surprise and delight, his parents were already up, and Sarah and Patrick were nonchalantly drinking coffee across from them at the dining room table as though it were natural for them to be there so painfully early.

"Sarah!" It was hard for him to contain his joy at seeing her, and how much more improved she seemed from last night. Perhaps it had just been jitters; the audience was rather large last night after all. Maybe it was food poisoning, and she hadn't been just making it up. At either rate, his favorite person in the whole world was there and she got up and picked him up in a hug.

"Hey there you little rascal." Her hair brushed down on the top of his head and she looked down into his very dear, bright, childish eyes. "I've got a surprise for you," she said, kissing the top of his head and pulling his face back to look at him.

"Finally," Karen said impatiently. "Toby, she's been going on and on about whatever it is and wouldn't say a word of it until you were here. Go on," the older Williams woman crooned gently. "Do tell us."

Sarah turned a few shades of red and sat down at the table next to Pat, who beamed at her and took her hand in his. Toby, still in his pajamas, took the seat opposite her and simply stared at the two of them, waiting for one of them to break. Sarah looked from Toby, to Pat, to her father, then back to Toby.

"Well?" Toby's voice was groggy from sleep and dry from need of water, and his eyes were still puffy. His short, scruffy hair was crumpled from his pillow and lopsided on the left from a terrible cowlick.

"Well," Pat started, his voice soothing and cool. "I couldn't actually believe it myself at first, but…" He glanced at Sarah, unsure what to say next. Sarah's gaze was calm and almost steely when she looked up from her hands at Toby, and her gaze unsettled him slightly. What was going on with her?

"I just found out this morning, actually," she said simply, crushing her fingers with her thumbs. "But… Pat and I are going to have a baby."

Toby sat back, dumbfounded, as his parents exploded with joy at the news of their only daughter going to have a baby. That would explain why she was sick, but why had she been so _sad_? What was going on with her that gave her that far-away look in her eyes that she reserved for her stories? The change was so subtle that neither Robert nor Karen seemed to notice it, but Toby looked at Pat then, who was gazing at Sarah with the same concern Toby was feeling, though perhaps Pat knew more than Toby did. For as much as Sarah shared with Toby, for as much as he knew about her, she still reserved some things completely for herself. What he would give to understand her better.

That is when the genius struck Toby and he nearly fell out of his chair with excitement. It was though lightening had struck him. Her diaries, of course! Sarah had always kept everything close to her in writing, in her journals. He'd have to manage to sneak it away from her house, somehow, and return it after reading it without her noticing it was missing… yes, that would explain what was really going on. It would only happen if he managed to warrant an invitation to spend the night, though with the baby coming he doubted that such nights would last much longer.

"Toby?" Sarah was looking at him inquisitively, and Toby jerked himself out of his thoughts. Her expression surprised him; she was concerned. "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine, a little shocked is all," he said slowly, thinking of his words carefully. "I guess I can't be the baby forever, right?"

It was this that in turn gave Sarah a mild form a shock, and her face fell into a solemn place that Toby couldn't read. Karen and Robert, who had been talking with Pat, fell quiet and stared at Toby, when Karen cleared her throat loudly and urged Toby off to get cleaned up so he could spend some real time with the family. As he was shooed away from the table, his mind was buzzing. What had he said that had upset everyone so much? About not being the baby anymore and all? As he went up the stairs he caught little snippets of the hushed conversation, no, lecture Karen was giving to Sarah, demanding to know if Sarah had ever told Toby about what happened 'that night' and if she had ever 'talked' in front of him…

Utterly confused Toby resigned to the shower, and, determined little spirit that he was, thought about what it was that upset his mother into scolding Sarah, and what was going on. He had the sinking feeling that Sarah being upset and his mom being upset was somehow tied together, and using his little keen mind as he let the hot water dampen his tousled hair he tried to put two and two and two together, but still only came out with five. What had happened when he was a baby, could it be tied to why Sarah was acting so strange, even if she was pregnant? He knew his mom and dad would never tell him, so he turned back to his plan of reading Sarah's diary, but as he dried off and dressed, he devised to read further back, to the start of everything, and catch himself up to speed before he went prowling through his sister's house for her most kept secrets.

After all, what harm ever came from reading a book?


	3. three: from Jareth

Jareth stood silently in the tallest tower of his castle, black robes fluttering about him in a wind that pulled out of the castle and over the Labyrinth. A wall shifted somewhere and sent birds rising up into the sky; Jareth sighed and pressed a forearm against the wall. The setting sun blurred red and orange in the sky, melting into the clouds and fading into pinks and golds. His eyes, unseeing, stared out at the mountains beyond the Eternal Desert just past the Labyrinth, where a rainstorm chased the snowy peaks. He wondered in some deep part of himself how ten years had really slipped by, and how he was going to go about his next steps in coming full circle, even after so much time.

He was a king – he was used to getting his way. All he had to do was snap his fingers, and whatever it was he wanted, with few exceptions, just appeared. The goblins, dwarves, sprites and pixies in his land all feared and obeyed him, even if it was against whatever judgment they possessed. He was all powerful, and this they knew; his magic was unrivaled even by the kings of other kingdoms. He saw all, heard all, and even if he didn't, he had plenty of loyal creatures at his beck and call who would see all and hear all and report it back to him. His trickery, master of disguise, and cunning use of cruelty all were to his favor, though through it all he was still a pretty just and honorable king. He never led his people astray in matters concerning consternation, but they all knew his games were his to play, and all bets were off in those instances for everyone.

Jareth would get… _involved_ for lack of a better word. He would wrap and twist himself up in a game like a child in a blanket, so absorbed that until the game was over, everything was dedicated to his winning of the game. And he won all the games he played – usually. For centuries he had entertained humans in his Labyrinth, men, women, sometimes children. He had played his games and had his fun, each time relishing in the fact that they were not determined enough to rise to the occasion. Then _she_ had come along and refused to give up; others had done the same before her, and he deployed the same strategies, but she would not be deterred. The game did have high stakes, after all; she would lose a brother and he would gain a son, but alas, she seemed set on facing the Labyrinth and trying her hand. He set the terms so that he would win either way, because surely, even with so much time, she would get lost in his puzzle and lose the faith.

But she did not, and part of Jareth that had only awoken once or twice before started to come alive again. She was a challenge in many ways, and he loved challenges. Life could be dull and dreary without the thrill of a good hunt, but there was also something deeper, something more complex and artful about it all. Though he was not pursuing her, she was tempting his winding gardens in an attempt to redeem herself, and it was his game, his hunt to make sure she did not. Human emotions were always so fraught with regret and distress, Jareth never really understood why, and Sarah burned brightly in remorse for saying the words she could not take back. Words, in the world of magic, were a binding contract, as good as if she had signed her name in blood.

However, despite all his tricks to keep her from his Labyrinth, to keep her brother for himself, he failed as she succeeded. As she pushed her limits and his, the beast that had been sleeping deep inside for so long resurfaced, and Jareth found himself oddly infatuated with her, then oddly liking her, then finally, at a break when he felt all control was lost over his people, his Labyrinth, and his heart, in love with her. He had done all he could, trying to capture her heart as well, but trying to keep her brother as well spread his efforts too thin and he could not win her over. No, he had tried with his gifts, but that damned girl would not be swayed from her mission to rescue her brother. Jareth, in the end, could not decide if he wanted her or her brother more; a son would have been very nice, but someone to love, to hold, that would have been greater. His heart wanted them both but realistically, at the end as she faced him and he begged her, almost on his knees to stay, he knew that by chasing both desires he had lost everything.

Sarah and Toby had left as quickly as they had come, and Jareth was beside himself for quite a long time. He holed himself up in his castle, watching Sarah as she grew, sending little gifts to Toby. He still wanted them both, but as months waned into years, he knew that Sarah would never love him in the fashion that he had loved her. It was bitter, biting on him, her words still ringing in his ears… _You have no power over me._ Perhaps this was why, dejectedly, his old self crept back piece by piece. He buried his love for Sarah as deeply as he could and refreshed his eyes on Toby, the babe who he had also cared for and could influence over time. He could not affect free will, no matter how powerful his magic, which he was reminded of in Sarah's rejection of his affections. He could not tell Toby to do things, but he could hint subtly and guide and provide all the right tools to get Toby to do what he wanted.

Manipulation, yes – that was it. Sarah, beautiful, determined, strong-willed Sarah couldn't be manipulated in the way that Jareth wanted her to be, and perhaps that was part of her that made him love her. The challenge, yes, that had been part of it also, as well as her innocence, beauty, and creativeness, but she was too strong to be bent, to give in to what he wanted; it was not what she wanted. She had wanted her brother. He had concluded that Sarah would only be his if she wanted him, and only then.

Jareth was slumped against the wall, the sky completely black now, with tiny, tiny stars speckling the sky and winking at him. He grasped at the crystal ball in his hand and knew that he would have to send another token to Toby soon, or the boy would not be able to get the key to Sarah's old room. Toby. The boy had grown so much in so little time, and there were so few years left that Jareth could take him under his wing and begin the process of grooming… it was all so complicated, really. Toby had always been under Jareth's favor, being granted intuitions and hints about things that a normal person would not have normally been able to know, especially where Sarah was concerned. Even though Jareth knew Sarah would never love him the way he wanted, he never could completely halt his feelings for her, even though after a mortal decade he had raked plenty of coals over the fire. Since he could not just go and interact with her, he left part of the duty to Toby, and in ten years Toby had served him well, helping in ways he didn't even realize.

It was Toby's questions as a child that had caused Jareth to recall Sarah's little friends from the Aboveground – one such an occasion where Toby was marvelous at providing services to the King. When he was very small, too small to remember now, he had asked Sarah who she had been talking to. Up until that point, Jareth was willing to let her call Hogwart or Hobnob or whatever his name was, as well as her other 'friends' back and forth as she pleased, because his stupid emotions were still soft where she was concerned. His cruelty to her in the Labyrinth he could not take back, and he doubted very much that she would see his permission to let his subjects leave his realm at her whim as a kindness. Nor did he think she or her friends would view his putting a clamp on her seeing her friends as a kindness when her parents started prompting Sarah to seek psychiatric help. Hodgepodge didn't comprehend that Sarah was in grave danger from her family for her behavior, but neither did Sarah.

He did admit as she struggled with the doctors and insisting that her friends were real was a bit of a humor to him, and softened his anger at being spurned ever so slightly, but he wrestled with that part of himself. He hated her, he loved her, he was so angry at her. But he would not have her or Toby knowing too much before the time was ripe. So he recalled Hogmouth, and one Sir Didymus, and gave them each a weighted charm around his ankle, preventing him from being called to Sarah's side. While he would have liked to have killed the beast known as Ludo, and hang the skin on his wall, he had disappeared into the Eternal Desert, lost to the sands and time, unable to go to the Aboveground even at a beckon.

"You are prohibited from seeing Sarah ever again," Jareth had said bitingly as he sat on his throne, his two weepy subjects looking at him miserably. "She no longer believes in the Labyrinth and we cannot interfere with her human interests."

Of course, he was speaking of Toby and her doctors, but they did not know of this. And so Sarah lost her friends, and 'got better' by human standards, and went on to live a very healthy, normal human life, not remembering much about the Labyrinth other than a faded, pale dream and what dreams he sometimes gave her. It had been a biting reality for Jareth, and like Sarah, over time, he put it behind him. Sort of... Jareth had always been a very sore loser.

Now an opalescent bubble was floating through the air, dancing this way and that in a soft breeze and Jareth directed it toward Toby, who was waiting for his mother and father to fall asleep so he could sneak the key to Sarah's locked room. The only issue with his plan was that the key was not on their key ring, where Toby believed it to be. Jareth retreated back to his throne and gazed into three balls at once, each spinning in a different direction in his hand. In the one, was the key to her room, sitting on top of the door jamb, a stupid placement to put a key, if he was allowed to think so. In the other ball was Toby, in bed, looking at the wind blowing in the trees. He was writing something down, a note of the dull day he and Sarah had spent together, after his mother heard Toby say something she didn't like. In the last ball was Sarah, sleeping, tossing and turning in a cold sweat. Her husband, a well earned catch for Sarah but so undeserving of her potential, lay beside her, his arm over her now and calming her turning.

"You're dreaming about me Sarah, aren't you?" His voice was whispered in the candle-lit glow of his castle, for a moment the old sting of his affection surfacing. Then he heard her mumble something and his hopes fell, dashed; Toby. She was thinking of Toby again. It was never about Jareth. Her mother, father, brother, husband. Then again… Sarah had blocked out her memories of the Labyrinth, had been brainwashed that they were bad images and to forget them, and she had listened to them. He couldn't really blame her for forgetting, though he could still be angry – sometimes – at her for her actions, even if she had been a youth, and even if it was in the now distant past.

He looked back to Toby, his mind refocusing. For years he had tried not to think about Sarah, doing his best to stick to his resolve to quench his love of her, but whenever he checked in on Toby he always reserved a crystal for her, unable to help himself. He had watched her education, her career, her gradual steps into romance and then marriage, all the while pampering Toby as best he could from his limited position. Perhaps that was the most infuriating part of it all; he was all but powerless to do more than watch and give nudges.

Speaking of, his little gift of magic and nudging had finally made it to Toby, just as Toby was finishing his own thoughts. The thin, invisible bubble landed on the back of Toby's hand like the gentle kiss of a butterfly and Toby's hand jerked suddenly, as if something cold had shocked him. The words under his hand were revealed and Jareth almost dropped the crystals in his hand. There, as plain as day, was the worst truth Toby had ever delivered about Sarah. In the boy's unkempt but straight hand, the words that sent shooting pains through Jareth's mind were written.

'_Oh, last of all. Sarah told us today that she and Pat are going to have a baby. What a trip, to think that I'll be an uncle soon._'

Toby was picking up his pen again and completing his thought, and Jareth peered deeply into the ball, his eyes very near it and bugged, so that the King almost looked ridiculous.

'_Still though, I don't think it's the baby that's tying up her mind. I heard mom talk about something that happened a long time ago, something I don't think I'm supposed to know about, something bad that happened when I was little that Sarah was involved with. I'm set on finding out what though._'

As Toby finished the last sentence, and put his slippers over his feet, Jareth was still reeling from the new information. This changed everything, this made everything completely different! He would have to rework his entire game now, thanks to Sarah. New elements would have to be considered, new pieces were in play and they were not on his side. Worst of all, he had totally not been prepared for this, and now he would have to set into motion things that were not yet prepared. Most importantly, he could not rush things. His hastiness had cost him so much last time, and he was not known for making the same errors twice. This would require double efforts, and he would get no rest in the weeks and months to come. How this would require efforts!

Realizing that Toby was creeping along, Jareth prepared another orb for Toby and sent it off as quickly as he dared. Toby was walking past his sister's room, leaning against the jamb to listen to the snores of his parents, making sure that they were really asleep. Now he stalked past Sarah's old room, headed downstairs for his father's keys, when the orb passed through the door and connected with its target. The jingle of metal hitting the soft floor could be heard and Toby stopped. Jareth smiled as Toby turned around and saw the key on the ground, right beside his feet. He bent down and picked it up, then on half a knee stuck the key in the lock and silently turned it, and to his great relief, it clicked and the door swung open.

Inside was the room Jareth had seen so many times, had seen change from the room of a child to the room of a young woman. There were simple pictures on the wall, books on the shelves, but on her vanity remained the few tokens of her childhood she had allowed herself. There was a small figurine of a man with wild hair – Jareth had seen himself better portrayed in cave paintings – and an antique music box that played a soft song. Jareth watched with amusement as Toby stared at these items, possibly shocked Sarah didn't take them with her when she moved. However, the boy's hand itched where Jareth's orb had touched him and he remembered her journals.

"Yes," Jareth purred. "Don't forget why you're in there, find her journals, read them, know the truth that _they_ want to keep from you." He did include Sarah in that statement. By allowing herself to forget, for making herself forget, she was keeping the truth from him, though her journals would serve their purpose. She had left them there on purpose, as well as anything that would remind her of the Labyrinth, including her music box.

Toby stooped under the bed, his hand waggling in front of him. Nothing. He stood up and looked about the room again. Jareth tapped his nose as he waited for Toby's inevitable instinct to kick in. The shelves on the walls were Toby's next guess, and he pulled the books down, looking at each with disinterest, and when he went to pull the last tome from the shelves, his knuckles hit the wall, and it _thunked_ when it should have _thudded_. Light came into Toby's eyes; of course, under the bed was too obvious; Karen would have found her journals there. He pulled and pried on the wall gently, and it gave way with a little tugging, revealing a tall and thin hole in the wall, carved it would seem. It was rather odd that his mother had never heard that kind of construction. Right there, almost spilling out, was a simple black shoebox. Toby pulled it out of the opening and pulled the lid off, and bits of dust flew up at him; he batted them away. The box was stuffed with journals, each full of Sarah's adventures.

She had written down everything as she remembered them, and had hidden them away from her mother, knowing that they would be taken away and considered proof of how crazy she must have felt hiding a secret realm. Toby simply stared at them for a while, feeling ashamed that he was prying into his sister's past that she obviously wished to keep secret, but at that very moment a third orb landed on the crown of his head and sent a shiver down his spine. It was like a flash of lightening tore through the room as the boy put the books back on the shelves, hiding once again Sarah's secret hiding place, straightening her bed, all the while clutching her books. He paused at her vanity and his free hand shot out, grabbing the little figurine instinctively and including it in his spoils. Jareth wondered at that, knowing he didn't put that idea in the boy's head, but he had already closed the door and locked it, and was sneaking back to his room.

On his bed, with nothing but the pale moon to read by, Toby pulled the journal off the top and started reading the first page; it was dated much too late, not nearly when he had been a baby. So, he lifted out another, and another, and then another, each one dating earlier and earlier, but only spanning three or four years. Finally he found the first, and sat there, reading until he shivered and put the book down. He gazed at the figure he had placed on his night stand, staring. It looked somewhat like the person Sarah described, though hers was vague in that area. She remembered her other friends well but her last moments with the King, she wrote, must have somehow affected her total memory of him.

Jareth laughed in his empty, dark throne room, his voice echoing through the halls and waking one or two Goblin babes. How could she have forgotten him, when she was so hard to erase from his own mind? He read on, as if he were right beside Toby, anxious as the young lad to read what Sarah's take on the whole thing was. She was horribly upset about Toby being taken, about not knowing what had happened to him in the castle alone with the King, and nearly losing her dearest brother completely to someone she could only feel pity and resentment toward. She wrote of her friendships, of her struggles, about finally getting home and finding Toby safe and sound, and the feeling of adult that she suddenly felt, of giving up her childish ways and deciding to be more responsible.

Jareth vanished Toby's crystal as the boy continued to read on about what had happened between Sarah and their parents, about the repercussions of her 'hallucinations' and how Karen made her swear to never say anything to Toby about her 'dreams' – possibly because Sarah spoke with such conviction about the reality of the situation. Jareth had already seen those adventures, having used a bit of magic to conceal his subjects to anyone who had not seen them in his kingdom first. Even Toby, he shielded. Again, the boy was important to Jareth, in so many ways, a very vital player in a very delicate game that required patience and precision. His eyes turned back to Sarah's crystal, and she was in the bathroom now, sunk to the floor, her head hung over her toilet. She was vomiting.

Jareth looked away from the crystal. He couldn't see her like this; he knew from so many in the past what a pregnant woman was like, and it only stung him. He would need to rethink this to his advantage; he would need to drastically change so many things…

"Oh Sarah,"_ …always complicating everything, aren't you?_ His words faded into thoughts and he stared out over the stars breaking in the sky as the cool haze of the morning began. Even if his plan completely changed he was still set in his final goal: win back Toby fair and square and leave Sarah to her life, to her love… perhaps.


	4. four: from Hoggle & Didymus

Hoggle should have known better. In the recent years of him serving the king he had grown to fear Jareth less and less, but that swift, booming voice had instilled that terror in him all over again, fresh and raw. It should have been so obvious that Jareth would know when something occurred in his domain, even if the little dwarf had been as careful and sly as he could be. Oh, why did Jareth have to be so cruel to everyone, anyway? It wasn't like he had done any harm to Jareth, other than trying to expose his vicious plans to destroy lives, and anyway, is wasn't like it really did Hoggle any good to even try in the first place.

The thin light from the small door above him stirred and Hoggle looked up, blinded by the piecing light overhead. The memory was still so fresh, so surreal, that it was hard to believe that it had occurred at all… He and Sir Didymus had been locked down by magic, prevented by Jareth to leave the Underground at the call of even a sparrow. They had worked many, many long years trying to master the magic and break themselves free of their enchantments, and after at time they thought they had succeeded, but it was not so, only _faux espoir_ – false hope. Hoggle felt so dejected at that point, so low that he receded into the background to listen, watch, and wait; he knew his time would come before it was too late to help Sarah.

And then there was Jareth's plan that was mentioned vaguely in passing, Hoggle thought bitterly as he sat in the fading light. How miserable could anyone be, to plot to get what you wanted by means of falsehoods, trickery, and magic? Hoggle had seen Jareth coddle the human boy with small gifts of foresight and intuition, and had overheard snippets of conversations Jareth had with his courtiers about plans, and such horrible plans from the sounds of it! It was this that Hoggle wanted to warn Sarah of, to get her to protect her brother once more and save herself any pains that the King might procure. Unfortunately, it was impossible for him to do since his ankle was bound by a literally weighted charm; a sign of his imprisonment.

His friend Ludo had disappeared from sight, and this had made Hoggle very sad at the time, though knowing Jareth it was probably best that Ludo disappeared. But in the end it was Ludo who ended up cracking the enchantment over Sarah's remaining friends enough to allow Hoggle and Didymus to work their way out of the charm completely. He had disappeared into the desert, lost to storms and sand, years ago when Jareth first called Sir Didymus and Hoggle to the castle to give them their sentences. It had been a fine, brisk morning of routine faery patrol outside the gates of the Labyrinth when Hoggle had first heard the cry on the wind; but it being the wind he ignored it, giving credit to his ever wandering mind and imagination.

But then the rocks started to move, the sand started to tremble and the call got louder; Hoggle remembered with a warming delight in the growing light. Ludo stood on the hill overlooking the Labyrinth, calling long, and deeply, so that the sand wove its way around the charms and rubbed at them until the iron gave a mighty crack and broke a thin line down the middle of the anklet. All that it would require now was a little elbow grease and dedication to remove it completely. Hoggle looked up to thank his friend, but the great beast was lumbering on. He had called out to not forget about Sir Didymus, and Ludo simply growled a reply, knowing full well to free his other friend.

After that Hoggle had run to his home, eager to see if he could even remember the way back to the Aboveground. He shed the metal as fast as he could, shucking it off with relief over the long years of bearing it. Then he focused on Sarah, the small mite of magic within him willing him a moment to see her; there was none. He knew that if Jareth saw him without the anklet on he would be furious and send him to the Bog, so he put the metal piece back on and cleverly hid the fissure that would allow him to take it off at any time. So the days waxed and waned like the moon, months passing of Hoggle waiting for the moment to talk to Sarah, and one morning, he found it, and took it.

Sarah had screamed and run away from him, though, and he couldn't figure out why. Had she really been scared of him, or had she forgotten him entirely? Hoggle struck a match in the pitch black of the Great Oubliette and lit a candle, waddling over to the pathetic kitchen to make himself something to eat. He clattered about trying to forget what had happened next, but his thoughts were the only thing he had in this pit, and his mind couldn't stop replaying the events over in his mind, day after day.

_Someone_ had spied on him, or saw him come back, and a few days after he had contacted Sarah in her bathroom mirror Jareth was upon him, ranting – no, practically screaming – about how Hogback was going to ruin everything. Hoggle had rarely seen Jareth act so emotional, but the tirade didn't stop there; more words gushed forth about how there was now so much work to do to fix things, and that he had to make sure that the boy learned nothing, and that everything was as it was before. His voice cracked through the sky like thunder; that was when the fear of Jareth had returned, that was when Hoggle forgot his bravery and cowered in the shadow of his king.

"You'll not defy me again," Jareth had said then, his anger tamed but voice quiet and distressing. His eyes had clouded over, a sign that Hoggle had known for so long to be predecessor to something much, much worse. Then, in the still throne room Jareth had grabbed Hoggle's ear and pulled on it, causing a great pain for the small creature, who could do nothing but whimper and follow slowly, to the center of his great room. The King had stopped and stood, his hand still grasping the hard ear of Sarah's closest friend from the Labyrinth.

"For your disobedience," Jareth had bit coldly, "You will reside henceforth…"

"Not in the Stench!" Hoggle had screamed, interrupting and infuriating the already angry ruler.

"No!" Jareth roared now, his eyes flashing. "Not the Stench, worse than the Stench. You are sentenced to a life hereafter to the Great Oubliette, with only the light of a shaft above to guide you by day and a match box by night. Transport from it is impossible and there you shall not be able to even hear the song birds from above. No calls, no appearances, no foiling my plans!"

The floor had dropped out then, and Hoggle had slid down a long, winding chute, his last vision of the world above the oubliette that of Jareth's grim face staring after him, his mouth pressed in a thin line. Then he had dumped into Helping Hands, who more than eagerly pinched and pulled at him in his way to the Great Oubliette, the oubliette designed for people who were meant to be prisoners but much less so. The first few days had been miserable with the little light, a nasty scrape to the head from his tumble into the chamber, and no food that he could discern; later, food bundles would drop down to him on a bi-weekly basis. After that Hoggle's eyes had adjusted and he noticed a bed in a corner, shabby but large enough for him to lie across. Another corner held a meager kitchen, with a scrap table, counter for cutting and a water basin, and a fire pit with a grill fashioned over it. In the farthest corner, out of the way, there was a small door on the ground which opened to a long, thin hole in the ground that stank of putrescence, and slightly next to that was a little barrel that sat under a drip of water.

There was the light and these few furnishings and Hoggle knew it he was going to be there for a long, long time. He wondered for those first few days what had happened to Sir Didymus, and if he had managed to escape Jareth's wrath, and if he did, what he was trying to do to contact Sarah. Before his own capture, Hoggle had revealed to Didymus, who had also been visited by his brother Ludo, of what he knew of Jareth's shenanigans; both had agreed to do what they could to find Sarah and tell her, even at risk to their own lives. Hoggle had been taken shortly thereafter, and where the brave knight had gone from there he knew not. He was left, in his dank prison, to wonder.

"Oh Sarah," he said to the dim glow of his hearth. "You need me and you don't even recognize me; how can I fulfill a promise if you turn away?" He drank a bit from his lukewarm tea and sighed, gazing at the place where the light would normally come from. "There's got to be a way to get out of this place, to make you remember who I am and realize what's going on."

x x x x

Sir Didymus had narrowly escaped with his life. Hoggle, his unfortunate friend, had been captured and due to the nature of the situation, the brave fox couldn't allow himself to be captured as well. As Hoggle had expressed upon their last meeting, Jareth was up to something, something no good for the fair maiden Sarah and her brother, the good chap Tobias. Being her friend and confidante, the knight couldn't just allow harm to befall her; it was his sworn duty to protect her, _rawf!_ Anytime, anyplace, he had once told her… he would gladly lay down his life for her, but with Hoggle rumored to be in an oubliette he couldn't rush out and be noble just yet. As Sarah had taught him long ago, sometimes stealth was needed, even if you felt a surge to attack the enemy.

With his anklet off Sir Didymus had taken to Ambrosious and they set off to the East, toward the rising sun, toward the Land Beyond the Eternal Desert. There was no way that he could stay in Jareth's realm and not be discovered, and being a sly fox he knew this and bade farewell to Hoggle, who had been kept in the oubliette for however knows how long at that point, and his brother, Ludo, who had returned to the safety of the sands after a brief rescue from Jareth's charms. The very thought of the King hunting down the gentle beast had been enough to boil Sir Didymus' blood, but he had held his tongue for the safety of his wandering comrade.

Then he too had wandered, aiming for the Elven lands that lie in the East, hoping to seek clemency and refuge. For many days and nights he and his faithful companion braved the hot desert, the parching thirst, and just when all hope seemed lost they had stumbled to an oasis, covered with date and palm trees, and a small water hole that, though dirty, proved cool and refreshing after so many days lost. There they had camped for many days, until a passing caravan on its way to the Goblin City stopped. In exchange for several trinkets Sir Didymus was able to gain a water skein, and shortly after the trade set off toward the East again. The final days were not as torturous as the days leading to the oasis, but by the time they fell onto the cool grasses of the Elven meadows, they were nearly out of water and blistered, bleeding from the journey.

_All for Sarah's safety_, Sir Didymus had thought as he dragged himself to his feet, his mouth too dry to even bark at the Elves who were nearby harvesting their goods. They did see him, however, and gathered him up, bandaged him, and kept him safe behind their walls of earthen magic and remedies. Jareth, he learned as he mended, had not learned of his escape, which pleased Sir Didymus greatly. This would mean he could attempt to contact Sarah, here in this foreign land, and bring her warnings of the plots of Jareth. How any man could be as cruel toward one person, especially as sweet as Sarah, Sir Didymus could never know, but he could understand the forlorn he had seen in the King's eyes whenever Sarah was mentioned after her departure, and the pain it caused him for anyone to visit her. He even remembered when the King forbade anyone from answering her calls, and that cutting bitterness in his heart that shone through on his face. Perhaps that was when things had changed, but Sir Didymus could not rightly say.

His wounds were quick to heal under the kind and gentle hands of the Elves, who, unlike their neighbors to the West, were tall, beautiful, and calm. They had the pale green faces of water reflecting on lilies, and smelled of the earth. Much land separated their kingdom from that of the Goblins, and the change was indeed apparent. The Goblin City was dusty, dingy, small, whereas the Elven City sprung green and cool with life and laughter. Houses toward the meadows were of white stone, smooth and clean, and toward the heart of the city houses seemed to be made of living trees, the branches sprawling wide and far above providing a bright emerald shade that pale blue flowers bathed in. Small rivers trickled under bridges, flowing beside the roadways while small marble statues of dancing pixies and Elven children dotted the banks. People wandered the streets and gave fair greetings in a delicate and rosy tongue, and though the knight had traveled to the West and South he had not traveled East, as far as the wondrous and arching Elven halls.

Sir Didymus found much peace there and conversed with many who saw and helped him. Eventually he made his way to meet the Elven King, to whom he explained his plight and quest for protection in his calm borders. The gracious king bade the brave fox stay in the castle on his quest to aid his friend, for they were not a people to stop such loyalty to ones friends. There Sir Didymus gave his first attempt to reach Sarah, and there learned the same sad truth that Hoggle had faced back in the Labyrinth. Sarah… she had forgotten him, and was terrified to see his face, and hear his voice.

For a time Sir Didymus was put off by his failed first try, but encouragement from his new and budding friendships with the gentle people allowed him to press on, and attempt to contact her a few more times, but each time the result was more and more distressing. After the fourth attempt Sir Didymus had to take a sabbatical for his normally steely nerves and receded into the shadowy depths of the milky castle, trying to fathom why Sarah did not greet him, why it was so much harder to reach her than the last try, and why, why did she scream and cry? They had been the fastest of friends not even a coon's age ago, and her fright scared even Sir Didymus. What had occurred since their last meeting to blockade her mind so? If he could find it he would certainly break it down; he could not stand to see her hurt by Jareth in this state.

As time passed and he could not reach her, the knight grew weary and thought of his other friends, Hoggle and Ludo. Ludo, he knew, was safe from the wrath of the king, but Hoggle? It had been nearly two months since Sir Didymus had left the Labyrinth, surely the king would have noticed by then that the one who was supposed to not be contacting Sarah was gone. Of course, Jareth was wrapped up in whatever it was he was planning and wouldn't pay heed to a lone fox, so Sir Didymus rightly didn't know. He confided in the Elven King of his troubles, and the good fae had smiled his sagely smile at the fox and bade him closer.

"Young knight," the king's musical voice had hummed softly. "You are valiant as many of my warriors but your love for your friends is outstanding even that of my most loyal subjects. It is for this that I will speak to you the truth now, and beg you to heed it with the wisdom I know you posses."

"Jareth… he is a good king, a dependable ally and friend of even me in all these long years that we have ruled our peoplet. You must understand that in the Underground Jareth holds the most power save for the High King, as he bears under him the most subjects and land, and has kept good care of his kingdom and subjects. The fae would not allow him to rule if he did not, as the Council conditions the rights of sovereigns as a King conditions the rights of his people."

Here the wise king took a breath, and lowered shining eyes to Sir Didymus. "His plan, I am sure, is nothing more than his usual game-play. For thousands of years Jareth has been playing his games, developing his Labyrinth and spending his free time as he will. You, young Sir, have not known him as long as I, nor have you seen his past games and plans… oh, how the earth would shiver and shake under some of his crafts!" The king was smiling again. "But for all of that he is nothing to fret about."

That seemed to have ceased the discussion on Sir Didymus' worries, and they spoke no more of it for the time that the knight roamed the Elven kingdom. Sir Didymus attempted thrice more to contact Sarah, and a full three months had passed since his departure of the Labyrinth. He stopped after the last time, trying to contact Sarah, when she lifted an object near her mirror and threw it at him, screaming like a banshee and smashing the reality he had created and his presence. He had quietly bowed out, knowing when to cease fighting a battle, when the match was made and not set fairly.

"I know when I am not wanted," he whispered to a cool night breeze, drifting over the pale moon above. The sound of a howl in the distance rendered his heart with memory. "Though perhaps there is someone closer who needs me, who might assist me in my efforts. Fair Lady, I shall not fail thee!" With a renewed sense of purpose Sir Didymus closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to Ludo and Hoggle.


	5. five: from Sarah

Sarah stared at her bathroom defiantly. It was ridiculous to be scared of something as silly as a mirror, but her stomach trembled at the thought of it. What had happened to the woman brave enough to step in front of thousands and thousands of people every night and speak lines, move in directions, and still remember to project her voice and emotions to the people before her? It wasn't as if the mirror was going to bite her, after all, and she giggled slightly at the thought, but frowned nevertheless. What she saw sometimes when she looked in the mirror sent panic into her throat and made the skin on her palms sweat. She wasn't even aware that your palms were even _capable_ of sweating, until she had to use the bathroom.

Pat had left for a movie shoot and wasn't there to walk her through this; he had left last weekend and would be gone for six weeks. That left her alone for a long time to face her demons and try to avoid them, to try and forget that her nightmares kept reoccurring, and that nowadays they were more vivid, more tangible somehow. She thought back ten years, when she remembered first having the dreams, but waved them away like cobwebs in the corner of her mind. Pat, before he had left, had not only helped her through the experience with the weathered faced demon, but also a small fox creature, which had appeared twice before he left.

Sarah had cried when they parted in the airport, not wanting him to go, realizing that she leaned on his strength more than she realized. He had murmured in her ear, "_Don't worry, my sweet Sarah, nothing bad is going to happen. Just promise you'll go to the doctor for the checkup on the baby, and call me if you need me."_ When she had gotten home she had sobbed like a child into her pillow, not sure if she was distressed over his leaving, over the terrors in her mind, or from the hormones produced by her pregnancy. Either way, she felt scared and needed the comfort of her husband's strong arms around her.

Of course, that had almost been a week ago. She had wiped the tears from her face, remembering that she still had a production to do, and faced her fear of the mirrors for the play; the show must go on, after all. Of course, she started having some of the makeup artists for the cast work on her before the show, and avoided the mirror as much as possible, but as far as the rest of the world was concerned Sarah had simply developed a taste for her fame and was starting to wrap her fingers around it. She had, in all of her career, never asked for someone to do her makeup before. (While she had always had a sturdy hand, the effect of the trained artists was stunning. Sarah's picture appeared in more papers than ever.)

That just left her to her home. Reflective surfaces didn't scare her; she had no problem seeing herself in a puddle in the May showers, nor in the copper kettle that shone and whistled for her in the deep night after a show before she would take her vitamin and go to bed. For cripes sakes, honestly, she was 27 years old and felt like she was only five when she went to bed. For a time she had avoided the bathroom, but of course, necessity had won over her and she dashed in, relieved herself, and rushed out again. Showering proved to be difficult until she discovered that her Jacuzzi on the deck scrubbed her skin just fine, but with the baby coming she couldn't stay in long anyway. Her life felt stressed and one evening she finally realized how silly she had been.

"It's nothing more than a mirror!" she had shouted to her empty house. "There's nothing there, and there never was!" A very old mantra crept into her mind, from when she had been admitted to the Youth Psychiatric Clinic upstate, a chant she had learned almost eight years ago that had stopped the visions in the first place, or at least, helped. She had started saying them to herself, convincing her mind to heal and let her lead a normal life again. It had worked, but now she wasn't so sure… was she crazy after all?

"NO!" The voice that erupted from Sarah was a roar, shaking her foundation and she felt scared of herself for a moment. The old strength was there, but layers and years of maturity and responsibilities had been piled and lavished on her, willingly and unwillingly. She would face this, she could handle it. "I am Sarah Williams, and I am alone and not afraid." Her voice was solid after her roar and she felt a surge of bravery. There was the familiar feeling, she realized as she lifted her chin. She took a step toward the bathroom, then another, repeating her mantra, until she was planted squarely in front of the mirror, staring only at her reflection.

She smiled, and a distressed, but pretty face smiled back. Long, dark brown hair looked unkempt from a week or so of not going brushed, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her skin, normally a creamy white, was slightly sallow in the light and she shook her head at her puffy eyes. Of course she would look a mess; she'd not properly showered or had a chance to think things through in a long time. She sighed with apprehensive contentedness and prepared herself for a shower; she would wash this all away, right out of her rats nest of her hair.

The hot water was almost scalding but Sarah didn't mind as she eased a weary thigh behind the murky curtain. She started by standing in the water, letting it consume her for a moment, closing her eyes to the water on her face, neck, shoulders, sliding down her back and over her rump in a silky caress. Then she set to work with shampoo, adding a dabble of the lavender oil she had set in the soap basin. The smell enveloped her and she breathed deeply, inhaling the steam into her lungs and pushed the awful dreams out with her exhale. Her fingers scratched at her scalp and she delighted in the sensation, letting her hands grab bits of the soapy mess and pull upwards, stretching the skin on her scalp in a releasing massage. Odd, sure, but it felt so wonderful and when she rinsed that soap out and let the hot water on her newly tugged scalp, it relaxed her brain and allowed her room to think.

The soap curled around her foot as she leaned backward into the water and let her mind start to unfold. It stretched, dangerously stiff from so long without a proper shower, and she almost physically grimaced. Showers were the one place she could release, where there, in her nakedness, she was innocent and hid nothing from herself, and answers jumped out at her in the shower, no matter the problem. Of course sometimes the problem was tricky and she would require a second shower later, or just keep adjusting the cold water tap on the shower until all that poured out was left of the giant hot water heater. She smiled at the memory of Pat finally installing the larger beast in their basement after her many complaints that the shower was never long enough.

"Come on mind," she pleaded to the lavender fragrance and the fears slipping down her chest. "There's got to be something to explain all this. I am not a basket case, I'm not." This last piece she whispered to herself, faltering for a moment in the comforting embrace of her shower. Alas, her mind would give her nothing but a quiet and dull hum of thoughts of Pat, of the play, of lines and blocking, of bills and babies… baby. Her eyes opened in the water and she stared down in wonder at her barely bulging stomach, curious how something so small would grow into something so large… Her hands flew to the lump that looked like ill-gotten holiday punishment, and she smiled a little, the water rolling down her back reminding her of… what was it?

It was then that Sarah decided that having a baby was certainly different. Later, she might reflect how her thoughts always felt so muddled during her pregnancy, like she had just forgotten something, like unplugging something or turning off a light, or as if she had misplaced her keys. It was frustrating, but it was there in the shower that the feelings were a lot stronger than they had been and would remain for the duration of her term. Perhaps also it was the same as the calm before the storm, how everything seemed so clear when in reality it was quite the opposite. She forgot her troubles, they melted away in the shower, and they always had.

Sarah had felt particularly pleased as she dried herself off with the fuzzy, white cotton towel and donned her robe and slippers. Her hair she wrapped up like turban on the top of her head, a technique she had always done and continued to do. She went back to the mirror, fogged now after so many minutes exposed to the hot steam, and she leaned forward and wiped it off, and with her second stroke that fear had crept back into her and cramped at her sides. She stopped with a jerk, and averted her eyes, but when she looked back, there was nothing there. _Perhaps I've mastered this after all,_ she thought with a bit of relief. _After all, it's nothing more than shadows of memories of dreams, and none of what I hear or see is real, so really, there's nothing to be scared of._

Yet somehow, as she brushed her teeth over the bathroom sink (she had taken to buying a cheap toothbrush and brushing her teeth in the kitchen while Pat was away) she still felt that nag in her heart. It wasn't fear now. No, that other fear was more like stage fright than anything else, the emotion of worrying about what will happen rather than what does happen. This definitely ached more, was more rooted in something she couldn't place her finger on, and the will of it made her want to cry. She spit and rinsed her mouth, staring at the drain in the sink. _Why did she want to cry?_

She looked up then, slowly, expecting her face as she had left it, but no! There! Her heart raced and she choked back a scream. Something, that _fox thing_ was in the corner of her vision. She felt despair wash over her, panic, and she clutched the basin and stared into the drain once again. One, two, three, she counted, silently though her teeth were gritted again... From what, from fear, from panic, from her mind finally snapping into a million pieces? She finished her count and looked up, and the image was still there! She growled and instead of the fear she felt a biting anger at herself for succumbing to such childish, ridiculous daydreaming, or, or hallucinations, or whatever the hell _that thing_ was. Now she felt the fear grip her that she might really be losing her mind.

"Sarah," the soft, gentle voice cooed out to her and she and a thin arm reached out for her, but the tears had bubbled up and her vision was blurred, and she couldn't see it anymore. She didn't want to see it anymore! She howled with fury, shame, a sinking feeling of insanity and fled the room in a twinkling, sinking on the big bed that her husband would normally comfort her on. Pat…

The thought of him momentarily made her tears ebb, and she jerked her blotchy, tear-stained face up from the mess of her blankets. For a moment she forgot the chilling image that spoke her name and saw only her Pat's strong, chiseled jaw line and laughing eyes, and she trembled at his absence, and burst into tears all over again. Her face was buried deep in the sheets and smell of him, and she dozed off as her tears dried salty and tight on her cheeks. Her eyes were still puffy.

It was very dark and cold when she awoke, and Sarah jerked up, a trail of drool on the blankets and her shoulders sore from sleeping on her stomach, and she crept forward on her knees, falling on her soft bed several times before reaching her side of the bed. Her hands groped in the darkness before she found what she was looking for; yes, the lamp switch. The dim light hurt her eyes and she closed them for a moment, letting time go by so that she could adjust. Eyes closed even still, she reached her hand knowingly back to the table, and pulled back the long, thin handle and ignored the cord that dangled by her bedside.

Her eyes reopened and she couldn't focus, but found the number tacked to the inside of the phone fine; she dialed. The line buzzed lazily and she trapped a bubble of panic that welled up in her. _Buzz… buzz… buzz…_ The line picked up and there was a rustle of movement, the sound of a man grunt and the thumping noises of a sleepy man pulling the phone to his face. The voice on the line was tired, very tired, and still half asleep.

"Patrick Brown."

"Oh, Pat – " Her voice held the sobs of earlier and she almost started again at the soothing sound of his voice.

He seemed to have heard the distress in her voice from the other end because she could hear the clarity ring in his voice as he said, "Sarah? Honey, what's wrong?"

"I… I don't know." Her hushed whisper almost echoed in the dark room around her and she curled her knees toward her.

"Sarah, baby, listen to me. What happened? You've not called me all week, why now, at…" There was a groan as he shifted to see his clock – "Three a.m. – you wouldn't call unless... Sarah?"

Sarah, on the other end, had choked up and miffed into the receiver, her eyes welling up with memories and dreams that weren't hers, yet were completely hers and she tried to cling to the sound of her husband's voice. "Pat." It wasn't a plea for help in her voice, it was an attempt to be steady. "You remember that… that fox thing I saw?"

"Oh, Sarah." His voice sighed without the actuality of a sigh and she could almost feel the hug he would extend her. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

There was a pause on the line that Sarah considered the unspoken question she knew he wanted to ask. Come home? But that was unfair! He had wanted this role _so_ badly, and it wasn't like he would be gone very long. New York filmmakers shot on smaller time schedules than those in Hollywood, since the weather permitted only so much. That was luck and a blessing for the both of them considering everything.

"No, Pat," her voice was warm and firm, in a tone more usual to a normal discussion. "It's all right. You said to call when I needed you, and I needed to hear the sound of your voice. That's all." Lies, she would have rather had his arms around her now, crying into his chest and gathering his reassurances that she wasn't going nuts, but, oh well.

"Are you sure?" The question seemed so final, like she wouldn't be able to call him home later if she needed him. But she would, because he would drop everything for her, just like she would work three jobs to make ends meet while he worked on one of his projects. It was love, even if they expressed it in unspoken longevity rather than passion. They weren't in high school, after all.

Sarah sighed softly, nodding, though she realized he couldn't see that and agreed gently, with a, "Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Terror flared in her and she looked toward the bathroom, but safe from the mirror she bit her lip. "It was the same as before, just the fox calling out my name, as if it knew me, wanted something of me."

"Will you talk to the doctors about it?"

"Oh Pat, please don't make me." She almost burst into tears, the fear in her voice remembering the places she had been already, only this time people slamming the doors in her face, telling her they should have locked her away a long time ago, or worse, that a baby couldn't be handled by a crazy lady. "I'm not crazy, I don't want people to think I'm crazy!"

"No, honey, of course not. I didn't mean…" she could hear the pain in his voice as he tried to comfort her from so far away. "You know I don't think you're crazy. You don't have to tell them anything if you don't like, but…" There was a seed of doubt in his voice, and she knew that he was thinking of her safety. What if she did go crazy, and hurt herself, and the baby, or something? He had every right to be worried.

"I might mention the dreams to the doctor," she offered, trying to ease his suffering. She could hear a slightly relieved sigh on the other end.

"How are those?"

"Getting worse."

"Sarah, I…"

"Pat, shh." Her voice was now soothing him, and she felt strengthened again; they had always taken strength in comforting the other. The wave of forgetfulness started to sweep over her, like it had in the shower. "I'll talk to the doctors and tell them as much as I can without sounding like a complete lunatic. It'd be awful for you to come home to a committed wife who's been committed."

The other line laughed, deeply and tiredly, and she could hear the sleep creeping back into his voice as he said, "God I miss you. I love you too – don't ever forget that."

"How could I?" Her voice was teasing, and she suddenly felt sore and tired and ready to curl up in the smell of her husband with the sound of his voice still ringing in her ears. "I miss you too," she whispered softly, listening to the steady rhythm of the breathing on the other end. Felt it, in her bosom. "I love you more." Meant it, more than anything else she'd ever said.

"I'll be home in a few more weeks," the voice was warm and fluid, and she too felt drowsy.

"Bye babe." The line clicked, and Sarah, confused and tired, fell back to the pillows and slept with the light on for the rest of the night.


	6. six: from Toby

_Original A/N: A big awesome thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I do apologize that I've not been updating as quickly as I've wanted to, but I've had a couple of RL issues that have just swamped me. I'll hopefully get the next chapter up quickly. Peace and cheers!_

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Toby was just **so** thrilled; he could hear his mother talking loudly downstairs thinking she was being sneaky. He snorted at himself and rolled over, burying his head with his pillow. A small groan escaped his lips as a knock came on the door, and he shut his eyes even tighter, hoping that it would all just go away, vanish like Sarah in her journals… He lifted the head off his pillow as his father demanded that he get out of bed and felt bleary, but remembered Sarah's journals. His sister!

In the last couple of weeks and – had it really been a month already – Toby had poured over the years of his sister's life, taking in the tales, no, not tales; she really had to have been through it for all the conviction she wrote with her words. She had been through so much, especially when she thought that he, Toby, was lost forever to the grasp of the Goblin King. A burst of inspiration hit Toby like a wave and he almost jumped for joy. He would have to do research on this Goblin King, and find out everything he could, of course, since learning more about what Sarah had experienced in a very grounded, historical and scientific way would help him figure out why she was sick. Oh, Sarah!

"Toby!" His father's voice was gruff. "Get a move on already. You don't want to be late to your own birthday, do you?"

Toby groaned again louder. That was right – today he turned 12 and everyone was making a big deal about it when they didn't need to! He wasn't moving out or anything, and in fact, he felt a little more mature than the games his mother had planned. Oh, the shrill voice of his mother pierced through his skull again and all he wanted to do was go back to bed. _Why _did he have to be cursed with such an insufferable mother?!

"Coooming," he called lifelessly to the door, and heard the grunt of a large frame turning around and going back down the hall. He sat up, his hair sticking to his forehead in the sweat of his dreams… those _dreams_. The songs were haunting, chilling, but inviting; he wished he knew where he had heard them before, so he could put his thumb on it. Oh well, time for a shower.

Toby didn't need extra sensory perception to know who his mother had invited as he grabbed a towel from the linen closet. The neighbors would be here, and the kids from the neighborhood, and maybe Jake or Dylan from school, and she would have tried to get some of the girls to come, but he knew they wouldn't come. First off, it was the first weekend of summer break. Most kids were off with their families preparing for the fourth of July that would happen in a few days, and if they weren't doing that, then they were camping, or swimming at the lakes, or at the beach soaking up the brisk New York sun. That brought him to the dismal and bleak final reason. No one at school seemed to like Toby.

Once, an older boy had told Toby he was an obnoxious know-it-all and that he should go fly – well, those weren't the exact terms, but as Toby stepped under the shower, he didn't want to repeat them. Girls always avoided him, and boys who could stand to be around him were the geeks obsessed with their computer games and Magic cards. Not that Toby hated that his few friends were geeks, but it was just a big letdown that he wasn't popular. Of course, when Sarah had started her play and got all that attention, people had asked if she was his sister, which he was proud to admit, and that warranted some noontime lunchroom chats for a while, but he knew it was hollow. They would completely ignore him when Sarah would drop by to pick him up for a little one-on-one time, or let him off in the mornings so he wouldn't have to ride the bus…

Not that never having friends bothered him, mostly. Sarah said she had been somewhat of a real loner when she was in school, and it was a while before she broke out of her shell enough for people to open their eyes to her radiance. She had been the best thing for him in his entire life, and he knew that now, but even before he knew that she saved him from certain doom, Sarah had been there to play with him, to answer his questions, to show him how to do things and help with everything. Even when she went away to college, when she called she would ask him how he was, and when she came home on weekends, it was always like Christmas.

Toby cut the shower short and toweled dry, sulking about his birthday. He should have felt ecstatic, he wanted to, but remembering his lack of friends, despite his loving family, for reasons made painfully obvious by his peers was a definite damper. Even the joy of his earlier realization made him wince, since he was only proving what a book nerd he actually was. Well, he had to admit that it was all terribly fascinating, that even the thought of the investigation into how Sarah might have been involved in all this was exciting. So, he cracked a smile as he donned his jeans and shirt for the day; even if he wouldn't be jumping up and down about his birthday, he at least had the summer to get into his research, and that was a happy enough thought for him.

"Morning sweetheart! Happy twelfth birthday!" His mom was entirely too chipper as he came down the stairs and into the dining area; breakfast had been laid out and he actually smiled. She had made his favorite, chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. All right, all right, even if she was insufferable she knew his stomach better than he did, and was a pretty darn good cook to boot. As he helped himself to a stack of pancakes with a drizzle of syrup, he chortled at what Sarah had said once. _"For being fancy and all she does manage to throw it all aside to get dirty in the kitchen, huh? Too bad we have to do all the dishes…"_

"Happy birthday, son!" His father sat at the end of the table at the Captain's chair, sipping a cup of coffee and reading his paper. Mom was off somewhere in the kitchen, clanging about.

"Thanks dad, thanks… mom," Toby had shoved a big bite of the warm, fluffy pancakes in his mouth and savored the buttery flavor, but in the middle of his sentence. He gulped down what was in his mouth as he poured himself a glass of milk and carefully cut another bite. He was tentative to ask exactly what his parents had planned, since he was partially hoping for the usual and mundane party that they usually threw. He cast a sly glance around the room, and didn't see the usual small pile of gifts. Sarah would usually bring hers when she came, and he expected the normal socks from his neighbors, and if anyone from school did show up, he would just be glad they came.

His father eyed him over the rim of his cup, and cleared his throat a little. Toby looked up, startled by the noise. "No gifts in here for you this year. Sorry son, but your mother and I though that it was apart of growing up."

_What_ did he say? Toby's eyes grew wide in a very childish, selfish act of defiance. But he _always_ got presents on his birthday. His mouth even dropped, half-chewed pancakes and everything all in there, and his father had to clear his throat again to get him to close and finish chewing. Toby might have been flabbergasted, and might have been partially furious, but he wasn't about to just spew food everywhere. That was just gross.

"Are you serious?" Toby asked quietly after he could manage words.

The clanging in the kitchen stopped and his mom stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, a stern look on her face. "Toby, you know how times are right now. Your dad and me really thought long and hard about it, and it seemed like the best thing considering."

He turned around to face her, suddenly finding the hurt that he was feeling. "But… that's not _fair!_" He could feel heat rising to his cheeks. "You guys even asked me what I wanted and everything… how could you just get all my hopes up and then just not do anything? You know that I don't ask for much except for what you'd get me for my birthday and I didn't even want a _lot_ this year!" As he spoke he didn't notice that the volume and timber of his voice was rising, until his last words were loud and barely a squeak.

"Now Toby, that's no way to talk to your mother." His father's voice was calm despite the interruption, and Toby turned his blazing eyes to his dad. How could he say that, how?

"But dad!"

"No but-dads today please. Now, we are going to be heading out to the store today so your mom can get the rest of what she needs for her cake. She wants you to help her pick out the flavor of frosting that you'd like, and I'll need your help carrying the charcoal for the grill."

The lines in his father's face were unreadable, but the tone of his voice was firm and decided, so Toby nodded. His breakfast, which had seemed so wonderful at the start, was now cold and congealed, and he ate it without much pomp. As he swallowed the last of his milk his dad rose and headed toward the foyer, and Karen was already shrugging on a light jacket and her purse. Toby put his dishes in the sink, the elation of even his previous determination to be elated crushed. No friends and no presents, even if he would go to the library later. Phoey.

He trudged toward the door; his parents were already outside. He pulled the door open harshly, his eyes on the jamb as it made a shuddering noise from the effort, and as he stepped out, ready to slam the door, he stopped. There, on the sidewalk before his mom and dad, was a beautiful bright blue, ten-speed fat tire bicycle with a bright red ribbon in between the handle bars.

Toby forgot the door completely as he stared in awe, drawn forward to the bike in amazement. It was…

"Oh, wow!" It was all he could say. He threw his arms around both of his parents at once, then bent to inspect his birthday gift. He had asked for a cd-player like he had seen one of the kids at school using, or if they couldn't get him that, then maybe one of those tiny electronic pets that you carried around with you everywhere, but the bike made so much more sense now. All Toby had talked about in the winter was how he hated having to take the bus to the library, how he hated busing to school, and how, when the summer came, he would get a job cutting lawns to save up for a bike. They must have taken his constant babbling about being transportationally independent seriously. And he was glad for it.

"Now, Toby," his father was cutting in on his marvel. "I hope you're still going to be working that lawn mowing job. You could save up for that CD player or tomma-thinga-gotcha a lot sooner than you would have saved up for a bike. Your mom and me also thought it would be good for you to get to the library when you wanted, rather than waiting on the buses."

"Yeah…" Toby's eyes were wide again, but with admiration for his new bike. He wanted to ride it really badly, but Robert had been serious about needing to go to the store, so after a quick jaunt in the driveway, Toby put the bike in the garage, where his dad handed him an old chain and lock, with a key.

"Keep the key safe, so no one takes it. Ok?"

After that they had set off to the store. Toby walked ahead of his mother in the store, pretending to be interested in this or that while his dad went and stood in front of the meat department and drooled over the flank steaks that adorned the window. The store was one of the smaller shops, not one of the mega grocery stores, so it didn't surprise Toby when his mom got distracted talking to the cashier as she paid for the food and supplies for his party. The lady behind the counter asked in a mollycoddling voice if Toby felt like a grown-up yet, and he nodded numbly. There was a titter of high-pitched female voices and he cleared his throat.

As if entering the most difficult and cumbersome stage of his life wasn't embarrassing enough, when Karen and Robert stopped at one of the new Starbucks for a coffee they announced loudly to the barista that it just so happened to be Toby's birthday and the _entire_ staff of the coffee house broke out into a dumb song. It earned them a tip from his parents and scowl from Toby, who could feel his cheeks and ears burning. Perhaps getting a new bike wasn't worth all this trouble and he glared at a spot on the floor until they left for home. He didn't speak one word to his parents the entire time, relying on Sarah's advice of 'if you've not got something nice' philosophy.

The drive on the way was cool, green, but sunny, and Toby stared at the sun glinting through the wide leaves of the maple trees overhead. It was a golden day, with pale blue sky stretching endlessly into the horizon. A few feathers of cloud were painted above him and his forehead pressed against the glass, relishing in the coldness that he found there. His gentle brown eyes scanned the limbs slowing down in his line of view and he knew without looking that they would take a right onto the gravel drive, then a left into the driveway, and slow to a stop in the garage. Sure enough, not even ten seconds later, they turned right.

The preparations for the birthday were left to Karen and Robert, who shooed Toby out into the yard to test his new bike. He did so gladly, and pedaled around the grass and dirt with great relish. There was no breeze today but he stirred enough of a draft up to sting at his cheeks, and he smiled as his eyes watered. After an hour or so of biking around the neighborhood he parked the bike in the garage and sat on the cement, looking over the gears and inspecting the wheels until he was called to get cleaned up for company. He didn't take another shower but simply washed his face and hands, and changed into something less dirty.

The people from next door were the first over, and the thin, older woman clutched a small, square parcel in her hand, wrapped in bright red paper. He would have rolled his eyes at the next edition to his little library, but it wasn't polite, so he refrained and simply smiled and allowed her to kiss his cheek. Oh how he hated standing on ceremony to be appropriate. Her husband didn't really look at Toby but went toward the kitchen, where Robert was adding seasoning to the steaks he had bought. They started talking shop and Toby didn't pay attention to them after that.

When Dylan and Jake _and_ Scott showed up, Toby was almost beside himself… for about five minutes. Scott said that his mother had made him come and promptly sat in front of the TV and started watching the daytime cartoons, and didn't talk to Toby much more for the rest of the day. For a minute, Toby felt crushed, like he had done something wrong, but Dylan cheered him up with a messy, lumpy package. It was smaller and fatter than a book could be, and lumpy, so it was hard for Toby to guess what could be in there; he was usually so good at it too. Jake said that his dad, who owned one of the car shops in town, had talked to Toby's dad about the bike and was offering Toby free tire repair throughout the summer as a birthday gift. That probably was the best advised gift Toby could have got, but he was really holding out for Sarah's gift.

Every year, Sarah gave Toby something so fantastic, something so outrageous and wild that it was usually attacked by Toby faster than any of his other gifts, and usually the first thing to be worn out. One year she had gotten him a game for his computer, the next she had gotten the house installed with the world wide web, something that kids from school were only just starting to hear about. What he would get this year he couldn't even imagine. But, where was she? Everyone, it seemed, had arrived except for Sarah, and while he talked with his friends and played card games while they waited for the barbeque, he listened for the sound of her car.

Almost an hour passed, and the food was ready and was already being eaten, when Sarah arrived. She was flustered, but smiling, as she came through the door, a big bag in hand. Immediately she had half the party swarming around her; her pregnancy was no secret to anyone who knew Karen. She nodded and answered questions patiently, and allowed herself to be dragged into the kitchen and sat on a stool. Toby followed behind her, and as she sat and put the bag in her hand on the ground, she turned to him and caught him in a big hug. With one ear pressed to her shoulder, and the other being squeezed by her forearm, he could barely make out her telling him happy birthday. She let go and he flushed, and she grinned at him.

"You should have been here an hour ago," Toby's accusation hit the air like a lightening bug, angry but out like a flash, replaced with relief.

"I know, I know…" she trailed off as a plate of food was set before her, heaping with vegetables, fruit salad, and a steaming hot steak. The plates and bowls in the kitchen clattered around them, and Karen, the thin neighbor, and Dylan's mom (who drove all the boys to the party) talked quietly about fat or something.

"Well?" Toby had never felt impatient with Sarah, which was something that she taught him, but still, he tapped his foot and pretended.

"Oh, all right!" She shook her head and picked up a fork. She tilted her head to the side as she said. "Honestly, I didn't think that there would ever be a line that long in my life, but there it was, almost a mile long!" She was gesturing with her fork and free hand as she spoke, her eyes wide and innocent – not. "But I waited patiently so you could get the best gift out there, even if it cost me swollen ankles."

"Oh, Sarah, I hope you didn't hurt yourself," Karen was speaking now, her eyes glancing over her step-daughter.

"No, no," Sarah reassured her smoothly. "I mean, with Pat still on the shoot I had nothing better to do anyway, and I've been drinking water, it's all right."

Toby's eyes suddenly turned to the boxy-looking bag. He wondered what could excite such a long wait for something so… square. He went to reach out for it but stopped; he couldn't open it until after cake. Damn!

Sarah talked with Toby for a while about growing up before her attention was captured by the other women and Toby wandered to the living room, where the three boys sat arguing over a televised court show. He shrugged and sat down, joining the debate on whether Muffy was right to have kicked out Handy when he didn't back-pay his portion of the rent, then to a man called 'Snake' who was accused of beating up a guy outside of a bar. After a few strings of commercials for cartoons, sodas, and shampoos, it was time for cake.

The same can be said of Toby's cake as any other over-frosted cake with too many bits of fire on top, the same can be said of the worn-out tune that everyone sang, and the same kind of cold germs were spread over his cake when he blew out the candles as have been blown across birthday cakes around the country for decades. Heck, even the same, almost rubbery flavored vanilla ice cream was dished out to go with it. What he thought was special were the gifts that were promptly brought out. He had already proudly shown off his bike to everyone by a turn about the lawn, and he opened the small, square package from the thin woman was actually a videotape called Neverwhere, and he scanned the back of it quickly; something about a guy who gets lost underground in England, and gets trapped in between the two worlds or something.

Dylan's gift was a little better; it was a set of dice and cards labeled 'Pokemon' and Dylan promised to show Toby how to play and that he would help him look for and get new and rare cards. This was exciting because, and he hated to admit it, he liked the show and watched it every Saturday, and had asked his parents for a couple of packs of cards back however long ago. It was good to have a starter deck and… wait! Sarah's gift, the awesome of the awesome if she delivered like she did last year. She brought the bag to the table and Toby dived into it, pulling out a box about the size of a suitcase. He used the knife that his mom had used to cut the cake – before she could protest, mind – to wrench open a fissure in the cardboard and marveled at what he saw. It wasn't as useful as his bike, but ranked up there.

"A Nintendo 64?! Sarah, these are like, brand new!"

"I know," she told him cheerfully, her voice calm. "Told you the line was long."

He jumped up and hugged his sister tightly, and he could feel her grinning. She pulled him back and he, Dylan, Jake, and even Scott all raced into the living room to hook it up and play the games that she had gotten him too. They played for an hour or so, switching to new games so everyone had a chance to play something new (and they promised they would stop back by to play again sometime in the future, after the holiday), and Toby got up from the floor to stretch his legs and get a soda from the kitchen, when he heard Sarah's voice coming low from the dining alcove through the short passage between the living room hall and kitchen door; inside his mom and the other women were working on cleaning up, he could hear. He stopped outside of the door and eavesdropped.

"Dad, really, I'm fine. The doctor said that the baby is doing great."

"Sarah, but what about the… you know?"

Toby could hear his sister rolling her eyes. "It's nothing dad, I've told you already. I told the doctor about the dreams and how they're getting more realistic and frightening, and she assured me that it was just my body's reaction to having the baby. Playing on my subconscious or something like that, you know, making it more intense."

"But you told your mother and me that you had seen the little dwarf again, and that it was talking to you again…"

Unfortunately for Toby, he couldn't hear anymore, as there was a clatter and a smashing sound in the kitchen, then a wail that went up from his mother. His father and sister jumped up and went into the kitchen through the swinging door in the dining room, and he gave a push on the swinging door in front of him. There, in the kitchen, was a sight to be seen. Karen's most favorite cookie jar in the entire world, a delicately crafted and hand-painted piece of porcelain from France that she had got before she had met dad, lay in a hundred pieces on the floor. Bits were strewn out to the farthest corners of the room and as Toby entered, he could hear the fine china being crunched into sand beneath his sneakers.

After the cleanup of what would later be referred to as 'the most horrible slip of the hand ever' by Karen, everyone went home. He had hugged Sarah, pretending he hadn't overheard her talking to dad, and went into the living room, not sure if he wanted to play more on his new game system or go upstairs and reread her journals again. Dwarf! She had mentioned that one of her friends was a dwarf named Hoggle. And the mysterious king, how could he have forgotten? He'd have to go to the library first thing tomorrow and there would be books to check out and read up on…

As Toby glanced up at the top of the stairs where his bedroom was, his heart pounded slightly at the secrets he was learning about Sarah, and how he might be able to piece it all together with the right research. He stood from the couch and flicked off the TV; the long summer of discovering the Goblin King had begun.


	7. seven: from Jareth

_New A/N: This chapter is a lot meatier than the original, and though there is little dialogue, it is meant more as an explanation and back story that may or may not be explained at a later date. I fixed a lot of errors in this chapter also, so hopefully it should read smoother than it did before. If you have any questions or want to point out any errors, please let me know._

Original A/N: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and a really big thank you to Beccy and Tater for suffering through my snippets of teasing bits, and incessant questions asking if the characters are good enough. Hopefully with this chapter I've explained a little, dropped some more eggies for collection, and excited anyone to the plausibility of this turning romantic toward the end somehow... I mean, I do have it genre'd as adventure/romance on purpose. Also, sorry to anyone who got two alerts for this; I saved and added the chapter and forgot that I had started the AN and forgot to finish it... go space cadet me! Cheers, and peace.

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The afternoon lazed away in the Underground, and Jareth spun a crystal as he sat waiting for food to be served, watching Toby pour over the tomes in his libraries, spending quality time with each bound treasure, reading this and that and picking the pieces he wanted. It was fascinating to the boy, and while Jareth appreciated the efforts, he was bored already, and it was not a matter of content. The voraciousness that Toby consumed his books was dull – there was not much mirth in his twelfth volume as in his first.

Jareth, for one, had never understood the extent to which humans would torture themselves with their pursuit of knowledge. For Fae it was a leisure, a thing in which to fill time when you wanted something… fun to do. But for humans, for the first sordid years of their lives they filled their heads with stuff from books, forced down numbers and clamped their hands over their mouths to keep it all from pouring out in a mad gush, as though if they did so it would release the knowledge from their brain like air from one of their balloons. Perhaps this cramming of information was due to their limited lifespan, but it might have been anything.

Really, he took a slight pride in the fact that he had not stopped learning. In a thousand years even, he had never found the cause to not learn something. He closely watched some of the brightest minds that the human world had to offer, from the daring medical doctors of the 1800's whose autopsies on cadavers exposed and delivered some of the most complex advances in the field of medicine, to the perplexing mathematical puzzles that had been presented by Einstein. Despite this knowledge, more delight had come to him of the songs and orchestrations of humans than some of the most complex puzzles, prompting his own study of music and his development of that one aspect in the wealth of creativity humans had. Development was something Fae were very slow to do, for many reasons, one of which was their near-fear of change, another an inherent trait of their kind.

Over time, Jareth marveled at electricity, at phones, at television, and even with a pang of jealousy the fact that man had landed on the much celebrated moon. He was magical, wonderful but terrible, and even though he dreamed of the moon, he could never go. Humans had outgrown the King of the goblins in so many ways, and had forgotten over the many melting decades and centuries that he was once a part of their daily lives. Of course, back then there had been a significantly less amount of people inhabiting the earth, so it was easier to pass around the whispers of the King, to gossip and eventually write down the tales about the goblins and their masterful King.

Books, yes, of all the things that humans had ever done, the books they would write had always pleased him the most. The human mind was very keen if it wanted to be, and even more imaginative than even the best of the writers the Underground could manage to produce. They would write down the histories of course, as was a practice with most sentient creatures, but they also… dreamed. Things that were not in existence would be created, detailed, thought out and given a working body so realistic that it was possible when reading about them that they _might_ have once lived. Writing had been so dull of late, but it could be so colorful, so complex that as time moved on it was hard for him to remember just how a man named Shakespeare could have written such poetic tragedy, or how a woman developed one of the most feared monsters throughout Europe.

Jareth learned at first to read the Latin in which most humans were so fond of, then Arabic, and Chinese. It took patience, learning the foreign tongues, but he had mastered them because time had never been an object. Cultures from around the world learned of him in one form or another, giving him different names, painting him in different masks to explain to the people; it was no surprise that eventually he started reading about himself. Latin grew into so many other languages, French, Spanish, Italian, then as he moved about the German, English, and Gaelic cultures and languages that developed new words just for him… it was almost embarrassing. Jareth loved the German people the most, their nature most like his goblins than any other culture that he had encountered in his time, and favored them considerably through time, much to their terror and his amusement.

He sat idly at the dais in the dining quarters, now staring blankly at the plate before him, the food incomprehensible to him. He had been around for a very, very long time, held together after a certain few centuries by the hope and faith that people had instilled in him. It could be equated to a runner at the end of a very long marathon, so beaten by the course and run down by weariness of his own failing body due to the stress, but cheered on by the people alongside, their kind words and shouts of encouragement the very cure for a blistered soul. As humans had evolved in their culture he had found that their inexplicable imagination fueled them forward, however, their newfound grounding in science and religion squashed the simplicity that so many had held before, when magic was as common on earth as the water.

There were still magic on the earth, and in the earth, of course. He knew that there were parts of the world untouched by man, and still dripped faintly with magic – and those men who stole time away from their world of cars and airplanes and actually wandered out to those parts of the could experience that magic themselves. It was the same stuff that made hearts arrest for a moment at the simple beauty, like the calm waters of a rippling brook, or the craggy mountain peaks overlooking the roaring shores of the ocean. There were still magic in those things, and he knew this, because that magic was similar to the same stuff that he drew his strength from. Not his magic, of course, those were his own, but the rawness of the earth was fading, fading more quickly than most humans probably realized.

His world would not fade, of course; he would not disappear or die, and the Labyrinth would not crumble, the goblins would still go on being goblins… but as magic faded from earth, and humans thought less about it, the sense of renewal would pass and terribly stale times would settle upon the land. Like the cheering of a crowd during a race, the people of the Underground relied on humans to bring in new ideas, hopes, and dreams, to breathe life into the lifeless pages of the alternate world. Sarah and people like her, when they believed in goblins; it was like – how to describe it! – it was like the cool kiss of a breeze on a hot, dry day. To hear one's name spoken reverently, to see the sparkle in their eye when they really _believed_… But even Nikolas was having difficulties these days, what with so many humans growing up too fast and not believing in the jolly saint like they used to.

The wonders of a child and how they could hold so many things in the palm of their hand and never even know it; if only the humans knew the power they possessed over the Underground… and speaking of children. Jareth's weary eyes turned back to the crystal that he had conjured. His little moment of reverie had been started by Toby, of course, sitting in the public library and pouring over the tower of books that he had before him. Two months ago he had given the lad a push in the general direction of doing research on the goblins Sarah had written about, and with a great amount of joy Toby had decided to take the hint a step further and just research the Goblin King himself. Jareth couldn't have been happier at the youngster's revelation, but for a moment hadn't considered why or how he had come to that conclusion. Sarah had mentioned nothing of him, if at all, in her journals, so how could the king play such a big role in the conclusion he was seeking?

Jareth couldn't complain much, to be honest, and for a while he was content to just let Toby go about his own way, but the curiosity never full abated so he set about finding out why, exactly, he was the object of so much research. It was a rather disappointing discovery, since Toby had associated the King with all the things that would have involved the King, and while it was still pleasant, the logic behind it was severely undercut for how bright the boy was. However, he couldn't argue that Toby was learning quite a bit about the lore of goblins, and that he really did do his research very thoroughly. Jareth was… proud?

Jareth pushed back his plate and rose. Of late Toby filled his thoughts and Sarah to a degree. This game was proving different from games past; it took all the strength that Jareth possessed to keep from igniting his new plan prematurely. Instead of focusing on the goal, Jareth had rather taken to spending his time and thought processes on scouring the landscape for the dratted knight, Sir Didymus. The king could feel to his bones when the stupid thing tried reaching out to Sarah, and though he did not know her reaction, Jareth guessed it to be similar to her previous reactions, which wouldn't be good for her.

Hoggle, safely locked away in the Great Oubliette, would have a roommate soon, if only Jareth was able to locate the snippy thing. As days passed it was proving more of an irritation than he desired, as Jareth could not simply send his thoughts out and pick up on the location. Toward the close of the human's August month Jareth discovered that Sir Didymus had not even been in his kingdom at all, though he had assumed that at the first and had been searching the fringes, offering to 'handsomely reward' anyone with information.

A band of travelers who had come from the East finally reported in, saying they had traded with someone who matched the description, and that he had been intent on visiting the East, with the Elves. Of course, this news pleased Jareth so he allowed the traders to have their lives intact as their reward, and immediately had set out to contact Lucian, the ever wise King of the Schönkinder, the fair-children. The conversation had been very genial, Lucian remembering well the twinkle in Jareth's eye when he was involved in one of his games, and told all that had occurred.

"Though," Lucian had said quietly, "Your astute subject has done nothing of real harm I would suppose."

"He meddles with the affairs of a play which he cannot comprehend," Jareth had said darkly. "I have worked very strong magic to prevent anyone from contacting the girl; she is in a weakened state and I would not want anyone to upset that further." Could it be, even after long years, he loved her even deeper than he ever had before? No – he brushed the idea away as he finished, focusing. "I would like to retrieve him, if it's possible. He has neglected his duties long enough, and it is time for him to realize he is not a player in all this."

Lucian's pale eyes had smiled then, and crinkled slightly as he laughed and shook his head. "My dear Jareth, I had granted him clemency when he first arrived since he had so dearly requested it. I would be dishonorable if I took back my word, which you know I cannot do." Jareth had nodded, his anger seething well below the surface in a boiling mess. "Though, I would not say no if you happened to… come for a visit and happened upon him yourself. Even I could not deny a fellow monarch the right to greet all the people in my kingdom…"

Relief cracked the fury and Jareth grinned coyly, his lips curling on half his mouth into his trademark grin. "My dear Lucian, how humbly I accept your invitation for a visit to your kingdom. I am so glad that at least someone in the Underground remembers fondly the days of play."

"How could I not? They were the best of times."

Jareth nodded, and as the image of the king faded from the crystal he had murmured, "And they were also the worst of times, though the times right now are trying very hard to rival them."

Jareth's dark form evaporated and reappeared in at a large wooden desk, filled with papers and quills. He had several correspondence to write, and there were urgent notes from dignitaries and advisors that warranted his attention. For a time, Jareth wrote, working on matters that had to be dealt with immediately, then switched his attention to his trip to the East. He called several servants and issued orders for preparations, and when they left the room was still and quiet. He remembered Toby, and turned his attention back to the boy.

Toby had fallen asleep in a book. Jareth's eyes poured over the child, his heart not as hard as he gave away, and he shook his head slightly, like a parent when a child has fallen asleep before the end of their chores. The writing under Toby's flat palm was obvious even at the angle at which Jareth could see; the boy was keeping notes. Things were going according to plan, and Jareth's eyes twinkled, knowing the time was right to put the next piece into play. Toby was surprisingly falling so easily into this whole charade, playing along very well and Jareth savored the idea that Toby was playing along so well. Oh! How Jareth missed the creativity of humans.

With the tick of a heartbeat Jareth pulled another crystal from the magic and gazed into it, his eyes almost feline with mischief. He didn't need to do much, just take this one there, and swap that with this… yes, this would be such a lovely thing. In a heartbeat there was a book in his hand, a tattered tome with a torn cloth cover and curled golden script on the cover. The title read "Myth and Lore of Goblyns" in the same fashion as Old English, and Jareth's eyes flicked over the little thing with the same pleasure of the early bird who caught the worm. Rising from his seat at his desk, he wandered toward his window seat, leaning against the curve of the wall and opening the book fondly.

"My little Toby, you clever boy," Jareth said softly, his voice ringing distinctly against the stone walls. His eyes turned to the faded ink on the pages, which were yellow with age.

He didn't need to know where the trickery was placed, but he looked anyway, almost giddy in the moment. The majority of the book dealt with the older world's view of goblin folk, which was that they were evil, nasty spirits who reveled in all the sins goaded by the church, more so in gluttony and pride than anything else. Jareth laughed little, knowing that it was, at one point in time, true to the people of that time, and as things evolved and the goblins had stayed the same, that by most current standards they would not be as evil now as then. The book spoke of the trickery loved so by goblins, of hiding and fooling the impervious with the unexpected, of their knack to take things left or forgotten. Now Jareth's eyes skimmed the page hungrily, looking for the very particular thing that was a pivot to his favor.

"So it is that goblins will often take things that we as humans leave behind, or take for granted," the book was written. "However, there is a very special thing to consider when dealing with goblins. While they will scurry about and steal items, it is also known that this particular species of faery delights in taking healthy human children and replacing them changelings. It is rumored that goblins cannot care for their own sick creatures and so make the exchange in the hopes that their offspring might be better cared for." _Not true_, Jareth thought coldly. _Changelings are to fool parents into thinking that nothing is amiss._ The book went on.

"It is known that when a changeling is discovered that it disappears and the original child returns, however, sometimes this can take many months or years. Changelings are often noted for their strong appetite and strong temper, as well as inability to move well, among other unpleasant traits." _Or the parents could just fool themselves that the changeling is indeed their own child,_ Jareth smirked. _Did none of the parents in the 20__th __century wonder why their children were so ill-behaved?_ "Lore has often speculated that the only way to get rid of a changeling is to make them laugh, though some changelings have been known to be enchanted timbers who grow sick and die quickly after being exchanged for the real child."

Jareth almost growled that the book was not getting to his addition. "It should be noted that goblins are not free from the authority of humans, and must respond when called upon. Several witches were sentenced for invoking the phrase that indeed caused many children to disappear in the night, without even a changeling to be given in place. After much grueling research and learning of folk lore, the phrase was discovered, though at cost…" Jareth was ecstatic; oh how his addition just slipped right into the actual book! The book flowed seamlessly on, with one hint from Jareth about the severity of such actions, the only alert to those who might read it. "Be wary of uttering such powerful words, as the faery goblins take the spoken word as the writ, and hold it to be binding to anyone who would speak thus."

He snapped the book closed with a little sigh of satisfaction. Time had made him forget just how the spark of creativity could add so much life into one's person. He checked on Toby in his crystal; good, the boy was still asleep. Jareth prepared two crystals, one, to wake the boy and send him home, and the other to add the latest addition to the library to Toby's check-out pile. In the rush of realizing the time Toby would no doubt just scoop it up and continue his reading and note-taking there. It would all end up so beautiful when the time came, Jareth knew, because the plan was without interference.

Of course, there would be repercussions of magic this big, but only he and his Fae brethren would know of it. Well, perhaps those more in tune with the magic of the world would feel a ripple, but they would not know the source of the disturbance, nor would they seek it out. Ripples like this happened all of the time, and Jareth felt them possibly more than others, but he never spoke a word about it to anyone. He was not one to question when his peers used bigger magic, just as he expected not to be questioned when he used it as well. The Underground society, for all its flippant formalities and stuffy protocols and procedures, was pretty lenient about such things as the bigger magic. Maybe it was because of how old they all were, and how so little of what they did affected the inhabitants of the Aboveground perception on normalcy, but regardless. Jareth's eyes grinned wickedly as the pale moon started to rise up out of the belly of the Underground.

Regardless of how energetic he now felt, and how well things were going for him in other matters, there were several things he still had to attend to before he could leave. A servant entered and bowed, signaling that the eloquent but brief trip to the East was ready when he was. There, he would pay respects to Lucian and his family, then set out with much stealth to find the jibberwot fox and drag him back to the Labyrinth. Several other servants appeared shortly after, as Jareth was about to leave; they carried letters in reply to those he had only just sent. Unfortunately for Jareth, or fortunately for the fox, the trip was momentarily delayed due to matters of state pressed upon him by his advisors and council. The timing of his game did not match well with other affairs.

Jareth's gloved fingers rested over his eyes and temple, trying to piece his entire life together, not just the cheeky game he played in his free time. Oh, how he dreaded that life was more complex than he ever let on in his games, where he was so carefree, so unbound. But as it was, life was very complicated indeed, as Jareth had to answer summons of the Great Call to the Council and the High King in but two seasons, and there was still much to be done in that time.

The Great Call, the ceremony and pomp which begged of each who ruled a kingdom in the Underground to present themselves at the Common Courts and to tell the tale of their kingdom since the last Great Call. Jareth had ruled for a very long time, like the fierce Demon King in the south, and he was seasoned more than the youths who governed the flighty Cherub kingdom. They were all bound to the Great Call, doomed to answer it lest they wither and another take their place, but it was the simple Call that they each had to answer as it came. Most were trapped by it, while some enjoyed with relish to answer, such as Jareth. Each calling was different, of course. Humans probably had little to no idea the sway that they held in their fragile fingers, the power that had been granted by the Gods when the race was first formed.

As Jareth prepared himself for bed he recounted the tale of the Beginning, in which the spirit of the world was breathed into existence by the One. The Companions of the One had each been given the task to create something for the new place, and each designed a different race. Goblins, demons, sprites, pixies, elves, even creatures such as the hippogriff and dragons were all set forth, but after a time the world was chaos and it was found that even as the races didn't get along, they couldn't govern themselves. As such the great but terrible Fae were born, and their supreme intelligence over the other species quickly and naturally vaulted them to positions of power, and kingdoms were formed, and while their subjects were in some cases wise in their own right, no one but the Fae could illicit order to the people. The magic granted by the One was mighty indeed, for even though most Fairy were magical, as magic was laced right into their beings by nature, the Fae were given hand-over-foot the power almost to rival the One and the Companions, but not quite.

Jareth slipped into his bed, devastated by its temperature and vast size. He closed his eyes and thought not of weariness. He was remembering the stories now, not just the legends, of the humans and of how the Fae were too selfish for the One, and how despite their order in the world they still did not have compassion or patience enough, despite the practically limitless range granted to them. The One created humans with no magic, and mortal lives, to shame the Fae at first that something so inferior could prove to possess such better character. As time went on, however, the Fae began to learn the patience wished of them by the One, as well as a number of other traits unknown at first. Cruelty, anger, and gratification had always been with the Fae, but the more they watched humans the more they realized their own emotions so beset in their own souls, such as kindness, love, selflessness. The err of their ways became known to them and they repented, and as punishment the One gave them the Call and the Great Call, so that they would not forget the lessons learned, and would never be parted from the humanity that taught them so many lessons.

Jareth yawned now at a memory, remembering when the story had ended so many years ago and when the reality was around him and he was a part of history. When he had been young, almost too young to remember, the One decided that the Fairy were too distracting to the humans with the vast differences, and that the humans were abusing the Call and twisting the magic of the Fae for evil purposes. So the One blurred the worlds, causing the Aboveground and Underground as it was later called, so that the human world and the world of Fairy would never meet in the same space, much like moving a body of people to an uninhabited place so that they could co-exist but never chance to talk… except of course, if the Fae found it within themselves to go to the human world, for whatever reasons they would find, they could. Since the Call was also still in place, and since humans did not simply forget the Fairy, for a time visits between the two places were frequent for both Fae and human, with the Fae naturally bringing the humans back, since the humans did not have the magic to travel between the dividing barrier that barred the two worlds from co-existing as one. Time had slowly passed and though the particular Call phrase changed depending on the ruler at the time and their whim, every Call had to be answered by those who were called upon.

Jareth's eyes were open now, staring at the fabric above his head, the tapestry a dark blue and gold and nothing note-worthy. He knew that though he could hear the Call for the Demon King, he would not be required to answer it; such was the duty of the Demon King. What felt like eons ago, many people had called upon the goblins, upon the darker nature that they were believed to be, and Jareth in his youth had played into it all with vigor and color. But time passed and the damnable humans started to turn away from the world that once had been. This brought Jareth's mind back to his earlier reflections of feeling tired without the creativity of humans. Perhaps it was part of what the One had wanted, for the Fae to feel incomplete somehow even with all their might. They were powerful with magic enough to even reorder time, but couldn't write novels of interest. They had music but not played with the passion that so many humans displayed with song. The colors of the Underworld were bright but were so much brighter when a mortal would look and see a way to shape it differently, to give it new perspective.

As Jareth tumbled into a tentative sleep, his mind could only draw one conclusion from all his thoughts; none, neither Fae nor human, had ever given him the electric thrill of that completeness like Sarah Williams did.


	8. eight: from Sarah

_Old A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates! I just moved and only got my computer hooked up yesterday. There's more to come... the chapter is a little shorter than usual but I felt like it was a good place to stop, and really, the exciting stuff is just about to happen. I am very pleased with where the story is going in my mind, and I think everyone else will too. Thanks again for all my reviewers, and readers! I hope everyone is enjoying this as much as I am._

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Sarah had never felt so exasperated or frustrated in her entire life. Of course, before it had only been the mild shenanigans of her brother, or the typical jabber of her mother and father, or even better, the rumors and gossip of her peers. She could handle that stuff – heck, she would trade what she was going through for a hundred Toby's begging her for another story. She would rather have that then feel like she was at the end of her rope and stepping toward the edge to swing. It was so overwhelming for Sarah, especially with having so many things happen at once.

Foremost, the doctors were wrong about how far along they thought she was. When she had first felt sick she had already been pregnant for a month, and her little morning spells went on for weeks before she decided to do anything about it. It was all right, she could deal with having less time to adjust to the fact that she was about to become a mother for the first time, it was still jarring. That by itself she probably wouldn't have minded so much. Being five, almost six months along, over half-way done, didn't leave a lot of time for reflection or time to practice anything. She barely snagged a birthing coach – many wouldn't take her because she was in the last trimester.

Then of course, enter in a million different things unrelated to her pregnancy. One, she wasn't working because no one wanted to employ an actress who was almost six months pregnant. It meant a lot of bad things, not only for the company and changing sizes for costumes, but also what it would mean to production in another three months, when there was a baby in the picture. Some moms could do it, but not very many were successful at being a mommy and a good worker. Two, Pat's career was really taking off but he refused to go and do any movies. After his first gig he was being handed offers left and right. He was a real trooper for Sarah, taking jobs close to the city that didn't require much time away from home, and from Sarah. Enter reason three why things weren't going great, the reason that caused part of reason two and would influence most of the other reasons Sarah felt like the weight of the world was crushing down around her.

Her dreams were getting worse, but taking the cake over that was the little fox. It had said her name again, and at the end of her seventeenth week, only four weeks from the very moment she lay so still in her bed, she had finally had enough. Up until that point she had merely screamed and cried, running away from the mirror that it would happen to appear in, and bury her head until Pat would come and calm her and assure her. At that point something in Sarah had snapped; a tiny, little click that was so subtle she didn't even notice it. Of course, it had been building up over time but the changes were so unnoticeable that it wasn't until that switch that some of them could be plainly seen.

The last time she had seen fox it had called out to her, flickering in her perception and she picked up the candle votive that had been sitting on the shelf, and, screaming that she wasn't crazy and that she hated it and herself and the world for doing this to her, had thrown the heavy golden holder at her bathroom mirror. Then she had laughed hysterically at all the broken glass, sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, her bare feet covered in cuts from the fallen shards and her hand bloody from where it had contacted the glass. It was gone, the mirror was gone so the voices had to be gone too… and it was all she could do to prevent herself from crying when Pat came in a rush to see what the commotion was.

Karen and Robert hadn't taken to this news well, and neither did they take to Pat putting Sarah in the hospital for a few days. Of course, they all knew she needed it, and Sarah had gone willingly, and answered the doctor's questions, and sat, blankly, staring at the wall as she was tested and scanned. It was especially dangerous that she was having this behavior; she overheard the conversations when they thought she was asleep. As they said, what with the baby and all, she was a danger to herself and her child now. Pat politely but firmly declined the restraints they offered him to install at home.

Sarah turned her face to her pillow and stifled a cry, no, a sob. Everyone thought she was insane now, even Pat. How couldn't he? Four weeks ago she had been put back into the loony bin, where they had poked and prodded, pinched and invaded her space whenever they wanted. Again. She had been taken back to when she had almost been 19, when she sat in her room and stared at the floor, the wall, anywhere but at the bars in that small window in her door. As an expecting mother she had been mollycoddled by the staff, given treats, the special medication directed by the doctors fed with care. Sarah hated it, hated all of them, but Pat's constant and cool baritone held her fast. She knew that despite her misgivings he believed in her, and it was a fact to her that he grounded her, reassured her that she wasn't crazy. They just needed to find the problem so they could fix it.

Sarah's legs were wrapped around the outside of the sheets and she sat up slowly. They hadn't found anything, not a dark spot in her brain scans or a burp in her mental health. Just like last time. There was just nothing that could explain it, not a damned test in all their science could explain why Sarah was seeing things. Sarah was beginning to seriously doubt in science, and give herself over to the unreasonable other explanations… the crazy talk. Possession had been mentioned, as well as ghosts. A chill ran down her spine at the thought as she tucked her feet into the slippers at the side of her bed.

Pat was in the kitchen, which was brightly lit for six o'clock at night. He looked weary and worn, and sat at the island with a mug in his hands. Sarah came through the door slowly, her eyes low and trying so hard not to look at his. Her trauma and pregnancy was straining their marriage, and they both could feel it. What would she have done 22 weeks ago, what would she have said? Sarah felt like it was all her fault, even though she had kept that to herself. The thoughts of it ate her up inside and were possibly part of what was driving her mad. No! She wasn't crazy.

"Hey," Pat's voice purred over her thoughts and jerked her eyes to his face, unwillingly. He looked relieved to see her. "My sleeping beauty is finally awake. Tea, darling?"

Sarah nodded, taking a stool as he got up to put on the kettle. His voice was so light, but his body betrayed him. He was a good actor but in the stress it was wearing his talents thin. She smiled at him and when he passed beside the island she reached out and took his hand, holding it for a few moments before he put his arm around her in a hug and held her there. She appreciated the contact and looked up at him from her seat.

"Tea would be lovely." She said it with her mouth, but what her heart was begging of her was to cry into his shoulder and cling to him and ask if everything would be all right. Of course it would. Sarah was still a strong person, she could get through anything. She hushed her heart.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thanks. It's just been so quiet lately... doesn't bed rest mean to just stay home? Couldn't I at least help around the house, or make dinner sometime, maybe dance a little when Toby comes over?" Perhaps being on doctor-ordered bed rest and leaving Pat to do everything around the house that they normally shared was straining too… add it to the list!

"Honey, you know that the doctor was very specific. With… everything that's happened recently he doesn't want you to aggravate," he paused and his face fell, and he looked at her with a side glance, a bit of mirth twinkling in his eyes. "I'm fine doing the housework by myself, thank you, unless there's some issue with the service?"

Sarah's eyes smiled with glee as her nose turned up and she sniffed plainly. She wouldn't resist a now rare moment to play. "_Well_, I never!" Her tone was high, arrogant. Now her tone turned English and she spoke with a very simple high-London accent. "I mean, I figured that the service here would be spotty, but _really._ My butlers could do a better job with their eyes closed. For shame, and this establishment came _so_ recommended!"

Pat laughed, plainly, and the sound of it was soothing to Sarah. She broke her character and giggled with him, taking his hand over the counter as he toyed with the cup he had placed in front of her. The games had always been fun, little play-acting whatever struck them in the moment, but as her pregnancy had gone on, it had gotten more and more strained. At least they knew that it was still there, and could communicate their difficulty in communicating with each other. She was pretty sure that had they not loved each other as much as they did, they probably wouldn't have worked out past their first year, but they did love each other, and they stuck it out even when the going got tough.

"Sarah, I love your games."

"Well, I love you," she said playfully, winking at him. His laughter softened as the kettle whistled, and he remembered his task at hand. The water was clear, hot, steaming, and Sarah could almost not see through the intensity of the water.

"Chamomile? Peppermint? Raspberry?" The last word rolled off of his tongue in a velvet purr and she shook her head.

"I'm really craving something tangy."

"Orange spice then."

"Sure."

Sarah watched idly as Pat rifled through their drawers to find the right tea box, then stared absently at the window, and her reflection in it. Behind her, on the mantle above the fireplace in the dining alcove, the big oval mirror was covered with a cloth. Her doctors had insisted that if mirrors were bringing about her fits, then to simply cover them. Three weeks ago. There had been much protest from Sarah, and she whined when Pat had put her vanity in the garage, and taken all of her compacts. But then again, there really hadn't been much she could deny; mirrors made her more and more uneasy the more and more she saw in them. Especially after her smashing incident, she knew how it must look to the world.

"There you go." Pat slid in next to her at the island and Sarah leaned against his arm as she wrapped her fingers around the warm cup for support. He wrapped his arm around her middle and they sat there in silence, Sarah lost in her thoughts of her slow slip into insanity and Pat thinking about how he could comfort his wife.

A sugar cube was dropped into the hot water and Sarah dunked the tea in and out of the surface before taking it out completely and placing the dripping bag on a saucer. Her spoon clanked and she closed her eyes, trying to forget what the cloth couldn't protect her from; the dreams. For as bad as the creature in the mirror had been, she found with dizzying horror and frustration that the dreams were growing more and more confusing, more intense, not less as her doctor had said. There were creatures and sceneries she had never actually visited, little things that crept to her in the dark and touched her with sharp claws, and a man… the man was definitely the worst part, but perhaps the best part. It was hard to tell after so many frightening images.

She often found herself simply standing in a room with him, trying not to look at him, but drawn to him, her eyes not a part of her head. She was attracted to him in the oddest way, both sexually and with her curiosity, but at the same time, she wanted to hate him. It was always a dance, a dizzying, maddening dance where the participants were crude, overt, leering. He wouldn't touch her in a wrong way, but as he held her hands and spun her this way and that, she wanted him to run his hands over her, but she wanted him to let go. Women and men touched her in the dream, in ways both pleasurable and painful, and it was like she was young again, like before, when she was so taken with everything good and bad in her little world.

Sarah had fallen asleep on Pat's arm and she awoke when he tried to move to get his arms around her, to put her in bed. She had drunk all her tea; when did that happen? She had just forgotten about the images of the mirror, the nasty voice and was lost in that beautiful room, her heart racing as she searched for him, even though she knew she didn't want to see him. But he had been hidden from her, why? Where was he? Why couldn't she find him?

"Come on sleepy, back to bed."

"But bed rest means…" Sarah's words were droopy and slow, and she shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Where had all the fog come from? When had she drunk her tea?

"Bed rest means you need to stay in bed and sleep, Sarah."

"But I want to… dance…" Sarah was asleep again, tucked into her own bed, her feet curled up and her belly round and smooth protruding from her shirt, her hand resting over her belly button. A throb toward her rib was a hand pressing from the inside out, small but noticeable. It stopped after a moment and the look of pain on Sarah's face passed into peace, and she sighed, dancing in her mind with the faceless partners who cooed over her soft flesh and pretty face.

Pat kissed her forehead, smoothed the blanket over her shoulders, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His poor wife, so traumatized by something she couldn't see, couldn't comprehend. It was even worse for him trying to help her through it because she couldn't, no, she wouldn't talk about it. She kept insisting she wasn't crazy and always changed the subject when he tried to bring it up, or even tried to brush over it. She wanted to do normal things but perhaps she couldn't see herself, couldn't comprehend the severity of her condition. He hated that word but it fit her; she was sunken, haggard, beautiful but so tired. The circles under her eyes grew darker and thicker, and he knew she wasn't sleeping as much as she should because he always woke up when she started screaming, waking herself up even if she didn't know it.

He went back to the kitchen, sighing as he cleaned up the little bits of smashed sugar on the counter where Sarah had been sitting, and placed her cup in the sink. Then, last of all, he tucked the Super SleepyTime Orange Pekoe back in its place by its brothers.


	9. nine: from Toby

_New A/N: I wanted to clarify the ending of this chapter. I didn't want to give a blow-by-blow of every moment in the story, since the majority of it is not relevant. I am not a master of bridging time, so I apologize if it is chunky. I realized this as I reread for the edits. I didn't intend for it to seem that way at all - I just wanted to get across that time was passing quickly and without much incident.  
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_Old A/N: Be prepared for darker chapters ahead; remember, Jareth's chapter is next. I make no promises about anything... but a big thank you again to all the readers and reviewers!_

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Toby was obsessed. Perhaps it was not the right word, but he shouldn't have spent as much time thinking about things as he did. Feverish, yes, that suited his fanatic behavior a little better. He spent more time in his day pouring over his books from the library than anything else, and between eating and sleeping Toby really didn't do much else during his summer months. Karen, of course, had ushered him, no, forced is probably a better term, away from the stacks of books piling up in his room and out into the sunshine. His new bike only got used because it took him to and from the library. His dad used his Nintendo more than he did, which was fine with Toby.

Rare occasions called Toby out of the world of the Goblins and into the present moment. Playing with his new video game system with his dad in the evenings before bed, for example, was one of those moments. Toby did get some use out of the machine, when he was tired of reading or just plain frustrated with what he couldn't understand. It made him feel connected, really cared about, which he hadn't felt since his birthday. Then when he actually decided to get out of the house and not go to see Sarah, it was over to Dylan's to learn to play the surprisingly fun game of Pokemon. Somehow it was fun to be able to watch a show on television and also be able to play the game with a friend. The few weekends that Toby spent away from the sprites and fairies was still wrapped up in monsters though – go figure.

Regardless of all of that though, Toby was making startling progress with his research. The lore of the destructive and deceptive goblins had been around for a very long time, but they were in turn associated with the general lore of fairies, which had been around for even longer. What was weird was how he knew when to associate what was probably true with something that was made up, like, what had been fabricated by humans and blamed on fairies. He was simply taken by all the things that were gifted or blamed on them, and felt what he could only describe as a sort of pity on the poor things. Sure, people had seen them as meddlesome, taking loose odds and ends, leaving behind replacements, even if they were inferior, but they did try, and that was worth something. Couldn't be any worse than the hoodlums who ran about the streets stealing whatever they could get their mitts on, anyway… perhaps back in the day people just didn't grasp the concept that kids could be as deviant as the goblins were described.

But the king… there wasn't much on a specific Goblin King, but there were volumes and volumes of the king of the fair people, the lore associated with him, sometimes expressed as a her depending on the author, and the different forms that had been observed of him. Some saw him as the mighty and terrible king of all the fairy, some saw him simply as a beggar on the street, or a wizened man sitting in the back of a tavern. Still, the same eyes appeared in the different images lavished into his books, no matter what the name given to him by the culture or what age the images had been drawn in. From the beggar on the streets to that old man, the eyes held the same haunting emptiness, page to page, book to book, century to century.

Under the name of the Gwyn ap Nudd in the Welsh folklore, Angemessener König to the Germans, Arthur Pendragon in French lore, and the Irish, English Italian, even Greek and Russians all had a name and myth to go with the same figure. He had been called Sandman, Dream Weaver, and the Keeper of Souls. And it was those _eyes_, those damned mismatched eyes that Toby kept seeing. It was too eerie to dismiss as coincidence. People all over the world, at very different times without having consulted one another first, had seen the same thing. It had to be him, the Goblin King that Sarah had written about. There was no reason why different beings could exist so similarly and not be the same; they had to be the same. Still, even if they were the same, what was the random chance that such a being actually existed? It was too much of a coincidence for it to be true… right?

The stories, no matter the origin, though, were no favor to him believing that they were any less false. Similarity after similarity kept appearing, and though names and details were varied, it was like everyone everywhere had the same things happening to them at about the same time. The fairy living in a different realm, or a realm existing alongside the human world, or the king being a ferry to the dead to that underworld, those were common occurrences. The most chilling detail was the disappearance of children and appearance of changelings, because in every society, regardless of their connections to one another, this was the one thing that was most similar, and though the abductor changed depending on the time, it was the concept that chilled Toby when he learned of it. Sarah's first journal entry had loomed over him when he had finished the research on this particular section; she had begun that she had wished him away and had to fight to get him back; would he have been replaced by a changeling like the children of the past if she hadn't won? The idea was frustrating to think of, and the past he couldn't remember or even control was nerve splitting.

What was even more frustrating than Toby's lack of grasp on his own past and the realization that perhaps Sarah had come face-to-face with what historians might laugh at and folklorists might drool over – her possible meeting with a literal living legend – was her deteriorating state during her pregnancy. Pat rarely let him come over any more to see her, and whenever he did get a chance to sit by her, she was either asleep or seemed weary by her whole pregnancy. For the first few weeks after his birthday she had seemed all right, but then she had gone to the hospital for cuts and then she was made to stay home by the doctor. Toby didn't understand the whole baby thing, even if he knew exactly where and how they arrived, it was why she was kept at home that was the real mystery.

So, one could imagine his shock when he received a call from Sarah almost the weekend before he had to go back to school in September. The hot of summer had passed, leaving the cool winds of autumn to sweep through the parched fields and forests and turn the yellows and greens into soft browns and reds, crisp oranges and faded gold. September… it had always been one of Toby's favorite months. It wasn't that it was the start of school, of a new academic year, or of new clothes, or even of the chance to make new friends. It had to be the weather, the way that the rain would threaten now and then but cease before it even began, how the days could still be warm but not be torture like August. Maybe it was the promise of October that made Toby love September so much, since he loved the cold crisp that the air got toward the end that would eventually fade into the chilly days of the Halloween month. September had always been his and Sarah's month.

Sarah's voice was strong in the receiver, and she sounded happy to hear his voice when he was handed the phone by Robert.

"Toby, it's so good to talk to you."

"I visited you last weekend. Did you see the flowers I brought?"

"I did, and I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say thank you."

"It's all right, you were sleeping."

"I know, I've been really tired lately. The doctor came by this morning and took a look at me, and said that I was 'much improved' and could actually move about the yard for a while. And you know what that means."

"Oh Sarah! You really mean it?"

"Of course I do, squirt. I've not seen you for what feels like ages, not properly anyway. I miss you."

"How long?"

"Only a few days. Pat wants me to take it easy with company, especially you, since you're so excitable –"

"Am not!"

"Are too, now hush. Pat says that even though I've been given a green light to stay out of bed for the majority of the day that I should still have a low amount of stimulus, in case I get sick or something. Apparently overdoing it is easy when you're going to have a baby."

"I'm really excited for that you know."

"I am too… it's only a few months away now that I think about it. The doctor says I am due in January."

"Maybe it'll be a leap year baby!"

Sarah laughed on the other end. "It's not the right year to be a leap year, Toby."

"Oh. But still, it would be cool."

"So, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to come over for a while. A few days maybe?"

"You know I do. Why even ask me?"

"You know I only call to ask mom if it's ok. I know school is starting for you on Tuesday."

Toby groaned. "Don't remind me."

She laughed again. Toby never heard a prettier sound. "Hand the phone back to mom so I can see about when I can pick you up. You do have all your school shopping done, right?"

"Yes…" He sighed and shook his head. "I'll see you later Sarah."

He left the receiver on the table where Karen picked it up and started chatting with her step-daughter again, while Toby wandered upstairs to see what he should take with him. He packed a few clothes, his needed bathroom stuff, and then he faced the wall of books that had accumulated against his desk, floor, wall, window sill… The librarian Jill had just looked at Toby when he piled all the books into his bag at the end of each day. He returned most of them when they were due, but checked out a handful for a few extra days when he just couldn't get past the older style of language.

There was one book that he had found especially useful, and it was one of those books that he had gotten through after much chewing over old phrases and complicated spellings. Toby absently reached for the thick notebook that had become his notes and thumbed through them thoughtfully. He really had done a wonderful job, even if he was a terrible note taker in classes. Each book had its own section of notes, and each was labeled with a sticky note, pushed against the starting page. He didn't read two or three books at once unless he had already taken notes on them, that way, he kept his concepts straight in his records. It was easier to go over what he had already learned and refresh himself as he went. And that book… it was toward the back, he had just finished it. He would have to start a new notebook soon.

Perhaps he wouldn't take any books after all. Besides, he wanted to spend the majority of his time with his sister, since who knew when he might be able to have this chance again with school and everything. But he would take his notes, at least to read them before he went to bed so he could keep himself immersed, or at least feed his growing habit to read up on the Goblin King and the different types of fairy, including the goblins. He was still so taken by all the myth and lore that his head swam trying to remember all the different types of creatures and what culture they had come from. The science of chemistry wasn't behind it as he had thought at first, but a different science that he later learned was in full practice, and that was _anthropology, _the study of culture, the people in it, the myths and why they were there. And Jill the librarian had helped him find those books too, even if she eyed him warily, and pointed him toward books that were less-likely to be biased toward a specific religion. Even if he was obsessed – no, feverish – about his study of the fairy, he still had his purpose grounded somewhere in trying to help Sarah. It was muddled to him after so much, but it was there nonetheless.

Toby was packed and ready to go when Pat arrived several hours later. Toby had brought his bags down and was sitting at the dining room table, laying out his stack of Pokemon cards carefully and arranging them by arena and element, then by creature and level when Pat's knock came at the door. Cards were scooped up and rubber banded hastily, shoved into a coat pocket while Karen talked in a low voice with her son-in-law. He picked up his bags and made his way to the door, trying to catch an earful of what his mom was talking about, but the floor creaked and gave him away, and she was quiet, waiting for him.

"Ready to go?" Pat seemed cheerful as usual, and Toby nodded. Even if Pat wasn't technically famous, his new commercials were hitting TV stations and kids at school would know Toby was related to someone even slightly famous, if Pat ever decided to drop off or pick up Toby from school. It was cool being related to a famous person.

The car ride was long and boring, but the half hour trip passed by more quickly with the hope that Sarah would be there waiting for him when he arrived. Pat didn't say much, since he could pick up that his wife's kid brother was excited to see her. The drive was long and gravely to Sarah's house, and her yard was hidden by tall, leafy bushes. Inside the lawn were neatly clipped grass, pretty flowers and bushes, and a big, white single-story house. It stretched out from one side of the yard to the other, while the width of it sank back down a gently sloping hillside toward a calm stream. A porch wrapped its way around the side of the house, and in the back there was a veranda and a hot tub. Toby loved this house.

Inside the open living room Toby dropped his bag, knowing that Sarah must be in the kitchen. He wandered through the arched doorway into the equally spacious kitchen and dining area where Sarah was standing at the stove, leaning over a tall silver pot. Pat hung up his coat on a rack next to the door in the kitchen that lead out toward the back and walked over toward her, kissing her on the back of the head while she tapped the spoon on the side of the pot and turned to Toby. He gasped at her appearance; when had she gotten so…_round_?

"Sarah!" His voice betrayed his gut instinct and he rushed into her arms and hugged her, while she tousled his hair. He stood back quickly and stared at her, each taking in the other in turn.

He had grown over the summer, and he hadn't realized it until just then. Before he had come up to just past her elbow, and now he stood at her shoulder. With her having been asleep he hadn't been able to gauge the growth, and now it was awkward for him to suddenly be so tall. Sarah wasn't a short woman, either, so that was even more disturbing to him. But the height did not bother him, he was simply glad to see his sister awake and… cooking?

"You're just in time for dinner, Toby. I hope you're hungry and don't mind spaghetti."

"Of course not." Toby took a seat at the island and stared at the array of flowers along the windowsill overlooking the river. He smiled at her; it was good to hear her voice so clear.

Dinner was quiet and Toby didn't mind. Apparently Pat was going for a job and would be gone until Sunday, which was fine with Toby because it meant he got all of Saturday to spend with Sarah. The evening was just about as quiet as the dinner, with Sarah curled up against Pat as they watched a movie, Dirty Dancing. Toby had always loved to watch this movie with Sarah, because they would get up and dance and pretend like they were in the movie. He didn't really understand a lot of what was going on in the plot, but it always made Sarah cry at certain points and he guessed that she related to the main character. He couldn't blame her or Baby; they were both brushed off by their family and required the love of a good man to bring out the best in them. Toby smiled as Pat kissed the top of Sarah's head goodnight, so that she could have a moment with Toby.

He climbed up beside her and cuddled with her on the couch, leaning against her arm as her lips rested on the top of his straw-colored hair. They were physically a stark contrast, each resembling their mothers more than their father. Sarah with her long, dark hair and bright, sparkling eyes, and Toby with his scruffy blond mess he combed occasionally and his pale, watery eyes. She was tall and slim, he was tall because he was a boy but boxy, square like Karen was. But one thing was common; they loved each other very much.

He noticed her stomach sticking out of her shirt, rounded and soft, and didn't notice when she moved her head away from him and stared at him staring at her. He had seen movies about people being pregnant but being so close to it was strange. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but Sarah just smiled at him.

"It's so… big," he said quietly.

"Would you like to touch my belly?"

"Could I?"

"Well, you won't be able to feel any kicks right now, it's mostly just stretching at this point, but it's smooth, see?"

Toby's eyes were wide as Sarah helped him run his hand over her belly button. It was definitely beyond strange, and hard to wrap his mind around the fact that in a few months there would be a small baby he would hold in his arms. Right now everything was smooth, small, and round. He did not envy her the stretching and pain that she was going to endure, or the labor that she would be put through in order to get the baby into the world, but he definitely admired her for it. He had to admit, women were a lot stronger than he could fathom.

After a hug and brushing his teeth, Toby curled up on the futon in the guest bedroom. He waited until the house was still before he reached into his bag and pulled out the thick notebook his research notes were kept in and thumbed through it, pausing over the section about changelings. He didn't understand some of the meaning behind the words, which was perhaps why he read it so often. There was just… something about it that Toby couldn't wrap his brain around. For the life of him he tried, but every time he read it, it just passed right through his brain, like a difficult math question. The more he read it, the more weary he became, until eventually he fell asleep with his notebook over his chest.

_x_x_x_x_x_x_x_

Thanksgiving was approaching quickly for Toby. School was taking up a lot of the time he had used in the summer for research and while he didn't mind being wrapped up in his homework, whenever he wasn't studying pre-algebra or eighteenth century poets his nose was in a book about folklore. He was actually floored by the amount of literature there was on folklore, and how anthropological it could be depending on who was writing. In his study hall period he was reading about unicorns and the supposed magical properties of toads, at home before bed he was brushing up on his runes. Every now and then he'd crawl out of the house to visit Dylan, and play Pokemon, but in the two months since his last visit to see Sarah, he'd been too distracted to do too much else.

Sarah… he didn't know exactly how she was doing, but he knew that she was well. Pat was taking good care of her, he had to be, because when she called to ask Karen what to bring to Thanksgiving it meant she was well enough to get out of the house, even if it were just to see the family. There were only a month or so left before she was due, and he hadn't seen her since the weekend before school; the doctors were pretty strict about her not leaving the house except to go for her ultrasound. She must be doing a lot better, he figured, in order for them to let her come for Thanksgiving. His heart rose with hope that she might be able to stay for Christmas too.

Of course, Toby didn't know about her dreams, but Sarah did, and was doing her best to make it seem as like nothing was wrong. Unless she spoke to Pat about them, she had gotten better about keeping them to herself. Of course, they were still disturbing and still getting worse, but no one but her knew that. As far as Toby and the rest of the world were concerned, Sarah was getting better. And she was proud of that – even if she was scared about what the dreams were saying to her. She wouldn't let people see her as crazy, not when Pat was working so hard to keep her safe, not when so many people were waiting for her to have her baby, and especially not when she was going to have a baby. There was always that small, still voice in the back of her head gnawing at her, whispering what she thought was so obvious: what if she _was _crazy, and they took her baby away when it was born, or what if Pat took the baby and locked her away? She would do anything to not let that happen… anything.


	10. ten: from Jareth

_New A/N: Say it with me: kal-uh-seez__. Read: Calyces._

Old A/N: I would like to apologize to everyone who's been waiting for an update. I moved and have been seriously digging into our dying economy to find a job, which is really tricky. As such, Jareth's muse kind of disappeared on me and refused to come back when I wanted to write again. I am already working on the next chapter, which should shock and amaze you... and if it doesn't, then I've failed as a writer. Thank you to all my reviewers and supporters. You guys keep me going! Edited for consistency and content.

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Jareth arrived with a small, soft pop, and the people around him didn't even notice his appearance. Immediately he was enveloped by the gentle and cool green light of the Elven City, and he wasted no time in gazing about and instead set foot toward the gently sloping castle at the city's heart. He had been there hundreds of thousands of times, in good times and bad, in times of peace and in times of war. The lands to the East were a fertile brink to the edge of a very shriveled desert where rare things dared to live, and the Elves were good farmers and generally good people. Jareth loved them in a fashion, because they were gentle and kind where the goblins were brash and rude.

Lucian, the Fae king of the fair Elves, had not expected Jareth, so when the Goblin king was presented to the Elven king, it was foremost a reunion. They sat together for a few moments and enjoyed a cup of tea, drinking in the healing waters of the land blended with the calming spices of the fields. Jareth spoke loudly at first, recalling fond memories with his fellow monarch before setting down the fragile cup and folding his hands neatly over his crossed knee. Lucian knew well why Jareth had come, as their last conversation had replayed over somewhat in his mind. The long, pale face could not lie and pretend that nothing was happening. Jareth rarely ever personally fetched a truant officer or knight, and meaning rarely, the king couldn't recall the last time Jareth had done it, and the king's memory could span back millennium.

"My dear Jareth, you have come for your Sir Didymus, haven't you?"

Lucian's face was straight and emotionless, but Jareth could tell that deep inside was burning an itching curiosity. Such was the heart of his old friend, and it could not be helped, though over the years he had learned to downplay such desires; Jareth could only admire the other king. His voice was quiet and silky when he next spoke to Lucian, purring almost in a hurried whisper as though someone else might be listening, breaching the sacred conversation of two kings.

"Yes, I suppose that is why I have come, though I swear the next time I arrive I will be here for a longer visit, to perhaps play a game of Serendipity or go on an adventure for old time's sakes."

"Then your visit today will be brief." There was obvious disappointment in the other fae's voice.

"I am afraid that is so." Jareth picked up his cup again, a cat-like smile on his face. He drank a little more tea and sat with a pensive expression upon his face, toying over the obvious question that hung so heavily between them and yet unspoken still. He lowered his hand and sighed contentedly at the tea, then cleared his throat. Tact was such a hard card to play with another monarch. "Do you…" Jareth broke off for a moment, the stiff formalism freezing his voice. "Do you happen to know where I might find Sir Didymus?"

Lucian smiled wickedly, his pale blue eyes crinkling in the corners. "Why not just go and get him, Jareth?"

"Lucian, you know how presumptuous and rude it would be of me to just pop into your kingdom, grab someone who might very well not deserve to be taken, and then chip off without so much as a hello… and besides, you know the laws prohibit me from such rash actions. Also, I find it deeply unforgivable to just reach into another man's kingdom to take what I want, when I rightly get everything I want with manners."

Lucian's head bowed slightly. "Of course. As the humans say, it's like reaching into another man's box without asking."

Jareth cocked his head to the side and prevented himself from rolling his eyes at the failed attempt of humor of the king. "You know, I'll never understand your fancy for those little sayings."

Lucian rose and adjusted the shawl over his shoulders, and motioned for Jareth to follow. Jareth did just that, and they walked down a green shaded path as Lucian spoke. "Of course, I forget sometimes that our interactions with humans differ greatly, brother."

Jareth nodded as they rounded a corner, but he knew he couldn't be delayed any longer. He stopped, his fists held as balls behind his back and several servants passed carrying baskets on their head, wandering toward the river up ahead. He waited until they were out of ear shot and then looked at Lucian again, who had turned to look over the twinkling lights of candles floating under the gently sloping bridge.

"Of course, your man. I believe he is in his lodging. It's in the servant's quarters just to the south side of the castle, on the other side of the river, over there." Lucian pointed to a set of low roofed houses to his left, and Jareth's eyes followed to a very specific house. He knew right away which one, and wouldn't need further direction; it was as easy as the sun rising to know where Sir Didymus was located.

Jareth extended his gloved hand to his fellow king and they took each others forearms in a fond embrace, soft and almost invisible smiles on their faces, before Jareth took off toward the bridge and the other side of the river. There, he conjured a crystal and rolled it about in his fingers, the sentimental side of him buried once again, as quickly as Lucian had disappeared back into his gardens. He had come for a very specific thing, and that was to seize Didymus and drag him back to the Labyrinth, back to the Goblin City, back to his only home and to his duty as a knight to Jareth, not Sarah. That thought added a spiral of rage to Jareth's mind and he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle at his own fury.

It was such a delicious feeling, one he relished in every time.

Like a pitcher at the mound, he let fly a low ball of the crystal, which went on its path with a thin hum of magic as it made its way toward the dullest house in the row. Outside were holes, dug into the ground and covered up, and a smaller house was adjacent, and a pathetic howl could be heard as the crystal passed the opening, and a white and grey streak emitted from it and dashed into the house, ahead of the crystal. Jareth placed himself at the front door, which was closed, as the crystal made its way in through the back door and he could hear the front door open hastily to try and rid the house of the damned thing, and a cry of utter shock and horror went up from the throat of Sir Didymus.

"Your majesty!" The voice was shrill and almost threatened to explode those with hearing sensitive to the higher ranges, and Jareth's crystal bounced up and back into his hand, disappearing in a moment. A wicked smile danced across Jareth's lips and he knew then the fear that the fox must have felt in that moment, but was amused with the bravery that he painted his voice in.

"I have claimed clemency here in the Elven kingdom." Then, the strength wavered at the full weight of Jareth actually being there. Didymus knew the laws. His voice was still brave, but weaker. "I won't go back."

"Oh, my little fox," Jareth's voice was dripping with condescending and amusement. "You are coming back, with me. I've decided to be your personal escort." He leaned now against the roofing of the house, crossing his arms against his chest. "Perhaps you didn't weigh the full consequences of your actions before you left, but upon leaving you abandoned your post, which is punishable by death." Jareth paused only to laugh harshly as the fox obviously paled. "However," he continued abruptly. "Being the kind and generous king that I am I will waiver such punishments if you can prove yourself."

Didymus grasped at the empty sheath at his side, his sword lying on the table in the process of being cleaned. "I'd rather die, thank you."

"Aw," Jareth purred. "And not know the fate of Sarah, really, after going through _all _this trouble to try and help her? Tsk tsk," he clucked.

"What are you doing to her?!" The fox's voice carried out and echoed loudly against the opposing bank of the river.

"So angry!" Jareth accused, his temperament becoming less than amused. "I'd watch that tongue of yours, knight, lest I cut it out for you. Sarah is in no real danger, and it's been my goal all along to prevent you from harming her."

"Lies," Didymus spat before he could control himself.

Jareth's eyes flashed visible anger as he grabbed up the fox and held him at eye level. "Fool!" Jareth roared quietly, his anger unchecked. "Do you really think that her screams at seeing your face were because she was glad to see you, or did you stop to consider that she screams because every moment she sees you she believes her mind to be lost?" He broke his uncontrolled emotions and tamed them with an icy glare. "I will not tolerate your insubordinate attitude any longer."

With that, Jareth pulled with his mind and closed the distance between their actual location and the throne room, and within moments Didymus, his dog, and Jareth were surrounded by the familiar sound of goblin chatter. Didymus had closed his eyes at the motion and they remained closed, somehow defeated by the king's words. So he had known all along… and he had thought he had been safe in the East! How utterly wrong he had been. Jareth knew, and it meant that perhaps he was right about Sarah, though why would he care, why would he not want to hurt her after the horrible plans Hoggle had overheard so long ago?

Jareth snapped into the thoughts of the cowering dog and knight with a crackle of power, sending shivers even down the spines of the goblins in the room. All eyes were on Jareth, garbed simply in his black leather, holding his scepter in one hand, his face cold and unreadable. His boots now paced the cold stone floor, but his eyes, his brilliant eyes never left the dark face of Didymus. Moments passed into eternity before there was a deep sigh that echoed through the room; it was Jareth coming to a decision.

"The dwarf does not deserve a speaking companion just yet," he muttered mostly to himself. He pulled himself up, however, and spoke boldly, addressing the whole room. "Sir Didymus, you are hereby stripped of your title. A Knight of the Labyrinth you were made, given such titles and privileges for your duty to the walls outside the Goblin City, but your recent behavior has proven treacherous and traitorous." His tone was almost black in the meaning for Didymus, and now he felt fear, real and raw. Jareth had little power over his spirit, except for a few things. His pride was primary in that grip, his pride in his knighthood and gentleman. Jareth's eyes flashed as he saw the recognition.

"As such, in abandoning your post and directly disobeying your king, you are deemed fit to be punished by the full extent of the law, which means death." Didymus stood tall but was obviously weakened when the sentence was given so formally. "But being a benevolent king I can waive the death, in return for utter fealty and obedience, as well as your word that you will wear for always, _this_…" With the last word a crystal formed in Jareth's hand and a ring appeared, bearing the same infinity symbol that the amulet around his neck bore. It was a royal symbol, basically binding a body to the realm and preventing use of magic unless they were a Fae, or could do very, very small magic. Jareth wore it in mocking of all those who were branded with it, endured to suffer a life without using magic, while he wielded the power with his just fist.

Didymus looked away from Jareth's face for a moment and Jareth roared out into the room, "Wear it or die, dog!"

There was a tremble in his hand as he reached for the ring, and Jareth shoved it onto the finger mercilessly. He would not be disobeyed, he would not! It was insufferable that his subjects were running wildly about not only his kingdom, but now the neighboring kingdoms as well. There was obviously much to do if all were to go according to plan, and with a wave of his cape he was gone from the room, leaving the de-knighted fox standing in the throne room. Sir Didymus was no more, and instead there was just Thomas Didymus, a spirit broken to his king's will, and reminded that loyalty was where your king demanded.

Jareth was off, being very busy. He hadn't felt so busy in a while. Something in the back of his mind urged him to hurry, and he didn't know what, or why, but just to get what needed to be done, done. He had a feeling that he knew exactly what was driving him, and it was both exciting and nerve wracking, but yet… if he didn't get it done before that anxiety disappeared, then he would be too late. Why he hadn't gotten the Labyrinth ready before now wasn't really beyond him, he had simply been busy keeping Toby properly immersed, which was turning out to be a full-time job. Of course, when everything turned out according to plan, Toby's inquisitive streak would prove very useful. It was just under the current circumstances that the curious nature proved a distraction rather than a tool.

After leaving the throne room, Jareth stormed and spoke with all the inhabitants of the Labyrinth, calling to each and demanding sheer obedience during the next few runners, or else they would be tossed not only into the Bog, but then left to swelter in an Oubliette. Rare had ever seen him in so furious a state, and truth be told, while Jareth was still steaming about Didymus, he was actually quite calm. His specialty was chaos, and he had always taken solace in the most stressful of times. By the fall of night Jareth had exhaustively seen to the smallest of worms to the False Alarms in the tunnels. Every creature that bore a tongue and knew how to wag it was instructed on what to do, as they always were, but he would not risk having the same result occur twice. That _family _had such a nasty history already, so really it was just a security measure on his part.

All that were really left were the Calyces, and Jareth had no real reason to worry about them. Firstly, they lived in one of the wildest parts of the Labyrinth, and secondly, they had no real form. They took the shape of whatever first thought of the person addressing them, and while that was a neat trick, they had no real form of communication. They would purr when held against skin, and the purr would send a feeling to the mind, but no words. It was up to the person holding a Calyces to determine what it was meaning. A happy thought in response to a question might mean a world of things, but it also depended on the question. Jareth had visited the dark and shamble-filled hole that the brightly colored creatures lived in, and was immediately met with an overwhelming sense of respect. The largest had approached him and he had removed a glove, allowing the soft, fluffy mass onto his hand so he could communicate.

"There will be a runner soon," Jareth had said. He was met with a wave of happiness. "It is my order that no one interfere in any way with any of them." More happiness. "In fact, any hindrance would be preferred." The next emotion was almost the same as rollicking orgasm, the pleasure was so intense. Jareth grinned as the fluff rolled off of his hand. He knew he loved those things on purpose… what sadistic creatures they were.

As the last rays of light fell he wandered back toward the castle, letting the maze open where she wanted and close when she decided. Of course, being the king, the Labyrinth would open in a straight line if he wished, but he could tell she knew he just wished to wander and think. He thought of Toby, and Sarah, and all the events that had occurred spiraling up to this moment, to the hours before his plan would roll into action and he would enact… well, it wasn't exactly revenge, and admittedly it was kind of childish on his part, but he had never lost so greatly when Sarah had defeated him and he wasn't exactly just overjoyed with it. No, it wasn't revenge in the slightest, though he was sore he lost, it was not about holding something over Sarah or Toby. It was _what_ he lost that made him bent on his game.

Toby… was very excitable to say the least. During the American holiday of Thanksgiving, Sarah had come to his home and enjoyed her time there. She had been very strained but seemed to enjoy herself, but Toby practically fell all over himself to serve her hand and foot. Her husband seemed aloof, but Jareth had never really concerned himself with the man's affairs, and so his attitude toward Toby was vague. Jareth wanted Toby to keep his mind in goblins, in understanding the phrase while Jareth held the answer just out of reach. The boy's thoughts stretched all over, though, ranging from his school work (which was admirable) to Sarah to a game involving painted monsters. Jareth still hadn't understood that one yet. But, a reminder here and there had kept him on the right path, and funneled attention to Jareth's cause.

Jareth breathed deep the musky, brittle air around him, delighting in the Labyrinth. He was much closer to the city now, and could see the dim glow of lights starting from the castle's outline. Soon it would shine like a diamond along the horizon, a beacon in the Underground. Sharp teeth glittered in the rising moon, and Jareth's legs jaunted down a few steps. The hedge around him was unremarkable, but its neatness pleased him. Perhaps, when all of this was over, he would set a team toward repairing the outer walls, and rebuilding the Goblin Kingdom back to its former glory. When this was all over… Jareth seriously doubted that it would be over for some time, knowing Sarah.

Sarah. The girl was maddening in her own right, aside from Toby. She put on such a façade for her family, pretending like the dreams she was having weren't bothering her, that the images she saw weren't real. As if. Jareth turned a corner, and encountered a dead-end. He'd not come to one of these in years. What was the Labyrinth trying to say to him? The dreams he had sent her at first were harmless, and supposed to soothe her. They were happy thoughts, memories of times she had been most satisfied, but her mind didn't take what he had to offer even when she was asleep. She had so many barriers, and he only wanted to help her.

The things that he had intended to be pleasant for her were twisted by her perspective, and Jareth could see the whole thing, either watching from a distance or as a small player. But how she could transform things, making her own monsters! Somehow, and usually most often, images of dancing whirled into her visions, and he or a facsimile would somehow violate her, mentally, physically, even if that was not the intent. In a way it was insulting, that she would manipulate him beyond her own run. When he had first met her, he had played the part she wished him to for a while, but as he watched her, he wanted to help her overcome more than she initially desired. From his removed perspective he could see everything wrong, saw her hurt, but she was young and was focused on her brother, and not herself, even though in her quest she had discovered part of herself along the way.

His initial plan had been so simple after she had overcome her emotional barriers with her brother, and that was to get her back somehow, but that plan failed. As Jareth forced his heart to be still, and his attentions turned to Toby, the plan then became about how to get the boy. That was the plan for quite a long time. Then Sarah entered again and changed everything once again, but in the biggest and most unexpected way yet. Now his last plan, the one in action, was simple. It was all so ridiculously simple to Jareth that thinking it all through had taken less than a heartbeat, but putting it all together had taken so long. He usually took so little interest in those who came through the Labyrinth, but she had great, what was the word? Spunk, yes. Sarah was spunky, with that spitfire attitude of hers and unwillingness to quit. There was a quivering energy there, something that manifested as spunk then but needed to be developed to what it really was. She was rebellious, but that had been beaten out of her spirit by her family, the doctors, and fostered by her husband.

There was a good deal less spunk, and Sarah was much more agreeable of late, but she would still not understand his intentions or his methods. She might hate him for it, but he was doing his best to get his point and who he really was across to her. He knew she had never hated him outright, but she never liked the concept that he stole children when asked, and couldn't give them back. As a monarch, Jareth never had to explain himself to anyone, or apologize. He was, after all, the Goblin King. He could do anything… but with Sarah, he felt compelled to explain to her, to reason with her, to get her to understand. Even if that were impossible, he had to try, in any way he could.

He had sat down in his thoughts, on a bench cornering the dead end, when an idea struck him to move things into motion and also clarify his own thoughts. It was drastic yes, but he had always had a flair for the dramatic. He pulled a crystal and stared into it, watching Sarah sleeping now, and dived deeper, watching her dreams. It was another fitful night, tossing and turning due to a flashback to the Labyrinth that she would awake and not understand. Hoggle was in her dream, not as a helper but as a demon, and Didymus jeered in his high tones. She was sweating in her dream, her pregnant self running the Labyrinth, tearing across the turns wildly. It was a perfect time to add a gentle element, but he doubted her mind would take it well. It never did.

Instead, Jareth rose, and decided to take evasive action. He would just see her. Perhaps seeing him would jog her memory, and maybe the reality might tip the domino to begin the events that would tip Sarah back into balance, and bring Toby to him. He smirked as he shimmered in the moonlight, knowing that he had lied to himself for a long time. The plan had never involved getting just Toby, and he realized that as he appeared in Sarah's room. He had simply been denying himself his own emotions, his tenderness and caring toward who Sarah was and the power she possessed over him. The plan had always been to get them both, even from the very beginning.

Sarah's husband was gone from the room, and frankly, Jareth didn't care where he was. His bright eyes pierced the darkness of the room while his garb seemed to emit shadow, and he moved to the foot of her bed. Sarah whimpered in her dream, and he knew what she must be dreaming now. If her dream was a recreation of the Labyrinth, then surely she was facing him again, and if her friends had turned into demons, then he must be the devil himself to her right now. He held out a gloved hand and a pile of crushed crystal appeared, and shimmered and glowed faintly, and he smiled sadly, knowing that in order to start the process Sarah might suffer greatly.

With a single breath the glitter spread over her sleeping form and she glowed for a moment, then her eyes rolled about wildly and she started to wake up. Jareth tried not to appear difficult or dangerous but he knew that she wouldn't see him as anything but with her dreams so fresh in her mind still, but he had to try. And if nothing else, not seeing Sarah had driven him mad in ten years, and even if she was with child, he longed to see her. Her eyes fluttered open and for a fraction of a second she was unseeing, then she suddenly saw everything, and her eyes went wide. Her mouth hung open, and she was unable to speak.

"Hullo Sarah," he said softly, but his voice caught on her name and sounded rough. His eyes danced across the space between them and she sat up slightly, clutching the blankets around her. She winced at the new position.

"Who… are you?" Her voice was soft and cracked, dry and cottony, and she had no idea who he was, except that his face appeared in her dreams.

"Don't you know, Sarah?" His voice held a musical note he couldn't stop. It sounded condescending.

"I…" A flash of memory seared across her mind and she cried in a soft whisper, "It's you… it's you!" Panic lit her face up in recognition as to what he was, dream to real life, and she started to hyperventilate. She clutched at her belly and her expression blurred.

Suddenly she cried out louder, and pain mixed with the panic, and her breathing became heavier and her eyes searched the bed. For her husband. Jareth's eyes narrowed darkly, but he understood what was going on. He knew part of what was going on was due to the magic he brought to her, but most of it was natural. He stepped back, toward her window, and watched as the scene unfolded. She sat up completely, kicking the sheets off, and they were drenched. The window was open. He couldn't watch this. As Pat came into the room at the urgency of her screams, a white owl watched from a branch near the window, then took off into the night.

And somewhere, in a deep, dark hole buried and forgotten, a blinding light broke through the ultimate blackness. Sore, tired eyes looked up, momentarily robbed of sight, but a gentle voice called hurriedly, and even without seeing Hoggle knew not to tarry. He was finally free, after months of utter solace.


	11. eleven: from Sarah

_Old A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been absolutely ages and ages since I've updated this... but real life has that knack to get in the way of the things we love to do the most! Without going into too much detail, I got accepted into university (which took a lot of work) and also got new job. The job has been the most preventative thing for me in terms of writing, but now that I have finally found my "groove" in the job, I am hoping I can finally finish this darn thing! It's very close to being done, and I hope that this chapter was well worth the wait._

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Sarah's contractions were not premature, nor were they severe. She was going into labor a mere week before she was scheduled, and so she and Pat were almost serene as they got her to the hospital. Of course, the contractions were painful, but not so painful that Sarah didn't enjoy the songs on the radio, or the nurse that greeted her with a smile and a wheelchair. Pat seemed to be more of a mess than her, which was very odd considering the – was it a dream that she had? – moment that she believed led her to her early labor.

The rational part of Sarah's brain, the part that had taken over her mind, the part that Pat had encouraged and helped along as her dreams had gotten worse, and as the visions kept appearing to her, kicked in to explain the man in her room. The visions she had experienced, she had convinced herself, were nothing more than blocks of her imagination combined with her pregnancy manifesting in a hallucination. She had been obsessed with these characters when she had been younger, so it was only natural that they would reappear at some point in her life. The doctors had said about the same, and so that was the way things went, and Sarah believed it.

Nothing could be further from the truth, and perhaps it was this subconscious fact that was what scared Sarah the most. She had worked hard to push those thoughts from her mind because that was what was expected of her, and if she allowed herself to believe that everything she experienced was real, well, then what? She would lose her family, and they were the most important thing to her. It was also unbecoming of anyone over the age of 13 to believe such 'rubbish' could be true, like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, and so it was simply not done, and rationale was applied.

Sarah watched as the lights passed her overhead. One, two, three, four… the fluorescent lights cast a yellow glow to the hall and floor, and at regularly spaced intervals gave the feeling of vertigo. Her attention drifted elsewhere, to the floor, to people standing in the hall near her, to the doors they were about to pass through. She only half-listened to the conversation Pat was having with the nurse…

"Her room isn't ready yet, but we were expecting her any time, so it won't be too long before we have one made up."

"That's good news. Where will she be put then?"

"Well, we have some temporary beds for her, and you can either wait with her or in the waiting room."

"And how long until her room is ready?"

"Mr. Brown, it won't be long."

Sarah thought the nurse sounded annoyed at Pat's questions, and she did note that he asked a question to which he already had the answer. She stifled a cry as a contraction hit her and noted that he seemed like an agitated bee, the way he buzzed around her.

"I'm very tired, is it ok if I sleep?" Sarah's voice was a cool breeze in the midst of the tension.

"I don't think the doctors would mind, but we do need to check your dilation first. And we'll probably be in and out making sure you're doing fine. So if you can sleep through all that, then I don't see why not."

"That's good." Sarah's voice was suddenly thin. She _was _tired; it was almost the dead of night. Her mother and father would have to be called when it got closer, of course. And Toby… Toby! She had nearly forgotten him in all her own troubles, forgotten that he had asked to be there to hold his niece or nephew right after they were born. Naturally she couldn't say no, not to her baby brother. Perhaps her forgetting him wasn't entirely her fault, as he had been rather despondent lately, almost out of touch. Though Sarah spoke with him on a semi-regular basis, Toby was absorbed with his school and games and friends, which Sarah couldn't hold against him. She worried a little, concerned more because they had always been so close before, but she was content because she knew it was a sign he was growing up.

Once she was settled in her room Sarah mentioned her parents to Pat, who agreed wholly that at a more decent hour they needed to be called. She reminded him not to forget about Toby, and soon she was drifting off into a colorless dream about babies and owls and white-hot pain. It wouldn't be long now, for her to actually have the baby, and to finally say hello to her son or daughter. She floated in and out of consciousness, being awoken every fifteen minutes by another nurse, or by a dream, or by the pain coursing in her body. The sleep she had desperately needed, that she hoped so hard for, eluded her and traded her instead for incomplete micro-naps. Sarah hadn't slept well in weeks, with each night becoming worse and worse, to the point that she was running on less than four hours of actual sleep. Sufficient to say, she was exhausted.

Sarah's contractions were closer together than the doctor's had anticipated, and she was moved to her birthing room before it was fully ready. Sarah had Pat call her parents when the doctors started moving equipment into the room, and a half an hour later everyone was crammed into the little room with Sarah, while she endured the pain in relative silence. It was almost uncomfortable for everyone to be there, but she didn't mind it too much, with so much else on her mind. Talk was low and excited, and the nurses came in and out to be sure Sarah was ok. As a "first timer" they were concerned about how she would cope with the birth.

When the baby was finally ready to come, her parents and Toby had to leave, and Pat had to put on a medical gown in order to stay by her side. The doctors told her to push, push, relax, push, relax, drink this water, hold still while we shove this epidural into your spine… Admittedly, Sarah felt much better after they applied the medicine. She was tired, of course, as she had gotten very little sleep, and having a baby was even more tiresome than her birthing coach had once warned her of. Perhaps she wasn't so much tired as completely exhausted, but the pain and baby wouldn't stop just because she gravely needed to sleep.

The delivery seemed normal, without much cause for concern until, the doctors started to talk in urgent tones and move quickly and invisibly behind her feet. Sarah didn't understand, because she couldn't feel anything from her waist down, but Pat was asked to leave the room. That worried her to a great extent. Why couldn't Pat be in the room when the baby was actually born? Was something wrong? What it baby, was it her? Fear and panic tore at her gut as more nurses entered the room. She screamed softly and cried, wordless and frantic, as she saw towels pulled away as soaked bloody rags, and the front of the doctor's gowns turning from a foamy green to a spattered, bright crimson. A nurse was told to hold her down, and that was when Sarah finally found her voice again, though it was small.

"What's wrong? What's going on with my baby?!" Her eyes glossed and she repeated softer, "My baby!"

"It's not the baby, Sarah." The nurse's voice was calm and reassuring, but it did not have the intended affect on the patient. "Your labor is much harder than we'd expected…" The nurse looked away for a second then back at Sarah. "The labor combined with the baby's position ripped the umbilical cord from the uterine wall. There's a lot of blood, and the doctors are trying to get it under control…"

"Nurse, I need forceps," a voice called from somewhere in the room, and suddenly another nurse was at her side, syringe in hand, now sticking the needle into the IV that dripped into Sarah's arm.

"What is…" Sarah didn't even have time to ask what they were giving her before she slipped into a dreamless, coma-like state.

xxxxxx

When Sarah awoke, the sun had risen, and was shining cheerily in her room. The first thing she noticed, however, was the dull sense that she should be in a great amount of pain. Instinct drove her to sit up, but Pat was right beside her and held an hand over her. In the corner of the room, Robert was standing over the cradle, while Karen sat in a chair at the foot end, look in the cradle. Toby was on the other side of the room, reading his journal like he missed a question on a test and was trying to figure out why. The blood, the mess from her labor, was gone. All that remained was an IV pinned in her arm.

"What…?" The normally silky voice of Sarah's was gone, and in its place a gravelly, stony voice growled.

Pat was right there, a blue hospital cup filled with cold water, and as he lifted it to her; he quickly added a straw. His eyes urged her to drink so she did, and found that her throat was as bone dry as the Sahara, and about as sandy. She sipped the water until she figured she could talk, and pushed the water away.

"Where… where is my baby?" Her voice was firm, weary, but firm.

Robert leaned over the cradle, and stooped down, gingerly picking up the contents. There was something pink and red in his arms, and it was small and still. Sarah's breath was caught in her throat, which was still dry, and now tight. Tears welled in her eyes and a hand flew to her mouth. It wasn't clear if she was happy, sad, nervous, or just sick from the anesthesia. He walked toward her and nodded his head, and Sarah instinctively put out her arms like a child would for a toy, itchy and demanding.

Sarah's baby. The wrinkled eyes, the tiny little fists, everything seemed closed and furled, like a flower yet to awaken. Arms brought the bundle close to Sarah's chest, and she held her baby close to her heart, and leaned her face down, and kissed her forehead. Yes, this baby had to be a girl, Sarah just seemed sure of it. The baby squirmed a little in what might have been a dream, and Sarah just gazed. There were no words in the room, even though all eyes were on Sarah and the baby, even Toby, who managed to put his book down.

"Sarah, there were some complications during the birth," Pat said gently, reaching out a hand to touch his daughter. "She came out ok, but in the process it caused a lot of damage for you. Lucky the doctors here are skilled, otherwise, you…" He couldn't finish but the look in his eye told Sarah what he couldn't put into words. _She might have died._ She remembered the blood vividly, and though there was no pain, she knew that it hurt.

"How did they stop the bleeding?" Sarah's voice was as quiet and still as the breathing babe in her arms.

"In plain English, they had to cut you open and put stitches in the inside," a nurse said from the doorway. The tall, handsomely dark woman walked in and started checking the IV in Sarah's arm. Her voice was thick and warm, and though Sarah was groggy she could hear a Southern drawl dancing lightly. "That is why you're to stay in bed for the next few days while you recover. The doctors want to keep an eye on you while you heal so they know you won't tear any of the stitches." It was a different nurse than the one from the night before, but she had gentle brown eyes and a kind smile. Sarah nodded in response.

Toby finally stood up, and crossed the room to see his niece. He looked at Sarah in apprehension, who nodded, and he reached a timid hand out and touched the baby. At his touch, the baby awoke, and opened her eyes at him, unseeing, before turning to her mother, where she smelled milk. Toby's hand still caressed the baby's head, letting his fingers run through the dark, thick curls that seemed to hide the pink scalp underneath, when the silence of the moment was broken by his small, innocent voice.

"What are you going to call her, Sarah?"

Sarah looked at Pat, then at Toby and her parents. "Pat and I picked out the name a long time ago. I want to call her Cora."

"Cora?" Toby sounded confused, and almost repulsed.

"Yes, Toby." Sarah's eyes couldn't sparkle, but the mirth rose in her voice. "If you'd read something other than your journal you'd know where it comes from. If she had been a boy, I would have wanted to call her Hawkeye."

"Like from that TV show, MASH?" Toby asked, suddenly interested again. Karen and Robert chuckled softly as Sarah shook her head softly.

"There's a book, called the Last of the Mohicans, Toby. The character's names are Cora and Hawkeye. Where do you think Hawkeye Pierce got his name from?"

Toby paused a minute, thinking hard about the book, the names. "Interesting. I think remember reading about a Cora, once. I don't think it was from that book though." The thought that had tried hard to form slipped from his mind in a flash, and he removed his hand from Cora's head.

"It's a beautiful name, sweetie," Karen said, finally moving in closer to give Sarah a kiss on the head. Sarah blushed. Karen wasn't one to be so affectionate, and when it occurred it was awkward.

"We're very proud of you, you know," Robert chimed in, moving in to give his daughter a hug, or, as best he could from her sitting position.

"All right everyone," the nurse said from the bed, reminding everyone she was still in the room. "I need a few minutes with mom and baby, please."

Pat took Sarah's hand and squeezed it, before rising and kissing her on the cheek. He was the last to leave the room, and gave her a fond look before closing the door. After the door clicked shut, Sarah turned her attention to the nurse, who was busy over at the cradle checking blankets and the padding.

"I have to pee." Sarah's bluntness shocked her slightly, but the nurse didn't seem surprised. She looked down at her baby, who had fallen asleep again it seemed. "She seemed like she wanted to nurse, but she's asleep again." Sarah took in the dark hair and smiled slightly, seeing herself in her daughter.

"They'll do that sometimes," the nurse said. "But not for very long. She'll let you know when she's hungry, that's for sure. Now, come on, I'll take her and then help you up to the restroom."

The nurse took Cora and placed her in the cradle, and then took Sarah's arm and helped her get out of the bed. As Sarah took her first step post-operation, she could feel the lumps on her stomach. She paused and lifted her gown slightly in the front, and stared down at the scars on her stomach, then kept walking. The nurse followed behind with the IV drip.

"I have a question," Sarah said as she hobbled weakly toward the bathroom.

"Yes dear?"

"Will I be able to have any more children after this?" Her voice was worried, thin.

"The doctors say it's too early to tell, but they are hopeful. They're good doctors, you know."

"Yes, they keep telling me," Sarah said numbly, as she finally made it to the toilet. She was too distracted trying to use the bathroom and trying not to urinate on any sore spots to notice the mirror on the wall, and she was in too much pain as she left to realize there was a figure appearing out of a mist.

When she was finally in bed, the nurse pointed to a small button to Sarah's left. There was just a red button on it, and a little LED light that appeared to be green. Sarah raised an eyebrow for half a second before quickly realizing that it was the control switch to the pain medication hanging from the IV stand next to her. Sarah looked up at the bags finally, and noticed three; there were two IV needles in her arm. One was clear, the other milky white, and the last a dark red, so red it looked brown or purple.

"That's your morphine control drip," the nurse was saying coolly, as she moved toward Cora. "You can push it as much as you'd like, but there is a limit set on it."

"What's the red bag?" Sarah asked calmly, knowing the answer.

"That's blood honey," the nurse said smoothly, without turning her attention from Cora and wiping the pink little bottom clean. "You lost quite a lot last night, and you'll need the transfusion for some time."

Sarah sat back then, and felt the first stab of pain in her stomach. She winced and seethed air through her teeth. The nurse looked over at Sarah, finished strapping the diaper she had been affixing to Cora, and then took off the gloves she had been wearing. Without asking for permission the nurse lifted the bed sheets and looked at Sarah in all her nakedness, and used her fingers to push gently around the fresh wound, which was ugly and shiny.

"The morphine should help," the nurse said as she pulled the covers back over Sarah. "And don't worry about it affecting any feedings, as you won't be feeding for at least a week. Cora is on formula until you are cleared to leave the hospital and the drugs have had a chance to leave your system."

Sarah's head fell into the pillows with a decided _plop_. There was one thing she had been looking forward to, and that was the bonding she would share with her baby when she nursed. She felt sad, but tired, and then there was the pain. The red button in her hand beeped twice, thrice, and the nurse smiled as she finished her tasks.

"That's it hon, you'll feel better, and you'll sleep too…" These were the last words Sarah remembers hearing before sleep took her, finally and wholly.

xxxxxx

In the weeks following his capture, the humbled Didymus thought about what Jareth said, and determined that he still could not believe King. Jareth had been and always would be up to no good, as was made plain by his attention on preparing the Labyrinth for a runner. Despite his misgivings about the king's intentions, the fox still could not travel to see Sarah; he was bound by magic and his oath. However, it didn't take him very long to realize that there was one person who could find Sarah and stop whatever Jareth was planning on doing; Hoggle. The only problem was, Hoggle was nowhere to be found. No one that the small dog could muster to talk had seen the dwarf for several weeks, possibly months. Finally, when Didymus was sure the search was hopeless, he caught wind that Hoggle was in the Great Oubliette.

The Great Oubliette was a place where people were not only put to be forgotten about, but they were put there as a reminder that they did something very bad. No light, minimal food, worse than bare conditions. Poor Hoggle! He had only tried to protect his friend; did that warrant such a punishment as this? Didymus could not say, because he was certain his own punishment did not warrant the crime.

Regardless, it was Didymus' duty to set his friend free so that they might stop Jareth and whatever scheme he had dreamed of, for surely, it would hurt Sarah! Everything Jareth did seemed to hurt others, even if he had good intentions. The Goblin King didn't seem to understand that his touch was harmful. So, plans were made. Routes were mapped, doors had keys found, food and clothing were prepared, and then, the wait. No one could get to the Great Oubliette without Jareth knowing about it… unless he was Aboveground.

The timing was close – almost too close – but Didymus had to pace himself or else lose everything. The risk was too great to move sooner, but, before Jareth's puff of glitter and smoke had disappeared, Didymus was in action. His pulse raced as he ran down the corridors, twisted around the hallways, and found his way to the very bottom of the castle. There, he fumbled slightly with the keys to the door of the Great Oubliette, praying that he wasn't wrong… or too late. Much to his relief, after swinging the rocky door open, a blinded Hoggle stepped out, as though he had been waiting for someone to rescue him.

"Sir Didymus!" the dwarf had cried.

"Shhhh!" Didymus hissed, and urged his friend along. "No time to explain now, just follow me, and do exactly as I tell you, if you know what's good for you."

Then they traveled in relative silence back to the cramped quarters the ex-knight had been stuffed into, where Hoggle was given a proper meal and a change of clothes (as the ones he wore smelled almost like the Bog and were in tatters), as Didymus explained the plan of how to save their beloved Sarah.

Hoggle finished his stew and seemed to tie his boots at the same time, and he was keenly ready to go before Didymus had even finished telling of the plan. There was no time to waste, and with Jareth gone, it could only mean that his plan was finally in action. Hoggle had to leave, had to leave then, had to talk to Sarah and explain that Jareth had it in for her and her baby brother, and perhaps her own baby as well! But would she listen? They'd been trying to talk to her for months with no success. Alas! That was why they needed to go, to actually be there and in her world.

Without even touching the sweet ale set out for him, Hoggle rose, ready to go, and gave Didymus a helpless shrug before stepping through the mirror.

xxxxxx

"Sarah…"

Sarah stirred, unconscious from the morphine running through her thinned blood. She heard someone calling her name. Was it Pat? It sounded rougher than Pat, but maybe he had just been coughing, or was using one of his funny accents.

"Sarah!"

The voice was closer now, as though it had been far away before. Sarah rolled slightly, unable to go completely on her side due to her stitches and her still-swollen belly. A hand jerked to her face and rubbed across her eyes, which fluttered, but did not open. She felt like she had only just gone to sleep, and did not wish to wake up yet. She was _so_ tired.

"Sarah."

The voice was now in her left ear, and sounded urgent, like something might be wrong. The baby. Sarah's eyes flew open wildly, but they didn't see anything. Sarah had a strong will of mind, but the morphine had a stronger grip on her body. She was still asleep, though she looked around the room. She saw things as they might have appeared, but she didn't see anyone in the room. That was strange, she could have swore she heard someone talking to her. She looked over toward the chair where Pat should have been, and he wasn't there, at least to Sarah's eyes. In reality, he was sprawled in the chair, head tilted back in an obvious attempt to get some form of sleep.

Sarah sat up, and noticed that the pain in her stomach was gone, which was only slightly odd. She remembered the morphine had taken away the pain, and made her feel sleepy. Maybe that's why her legs and feet felt like they were filled with lead. It took a great deal of effort to swing them over the side of the bed, but she did get steady enough to stand up. As she took a step toward the cradle, the weight in her arm reminded her that she toted an IV stand, so she put a hand on it to drag it with her, and found it steadied her steps a little. Shuffle, step, shuffle, step. Sarah slowly made her way to the cradle, where Cora should have been sleeping, but when she pulled back the covers, there was no baby there.

A heart couldn't have beat as fast as Sarah's did just then. Panic, fear. Her baby was missing, but where had it gone? Suddenly, a flash of light passed before her eyes and she was ten years in the past, standing over Toby's empty cradle. Lightening danced outside and rain pattered the windows. She shrank in horror as a shadow approached the glass, her stomach feeling sick. Not this, not again. This wasn't real, this wasn't real! Years of therapy kicked in and Sarah closed her eyes, but lo, she was still in the room, though in her hospital gown, clutching the IV stand. Memories she had long since repressed came floating to the top of her mind, like smoke. It was as though she had tried her very best to forget a very horrible nightmare, only to fall asleep and dream the same thing all over.

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod._

"Sarah!" That same voice, the one that had woke her up, called to her. She turned around to face whoever was talking to her, and the door closed to the room. Mustering up her courage, Sarah stepped more and more boldly toward the door, until she was opening the door, and stepping out. Dream or no, memories or no, she wasn't crazy and she wasn't going to let her past force her down. She shook her head, trying to clear the image of her parent's house, but everything she touched felt real. It had to be real – after all, they had always told her if you can touch it and you can see it, it must be real.

The only trouble for Sarah was that it wasn't real. She wasn't in her parent's house at all, she was in the hospital, stepping barefoot out of her room, past the empty nurse's desk, practically dragging the IV stand behind her. Hair wild from a night of sweating and matting, Sarah was a sight to be seen as she struggled to follow the voice calling for her. It seemed so familiar, so oddly friendly.

"Sarah, can you hear me? It's Hoggle. Remember Hoggle?"

Back in the hallway of her parent's house, Sarah closed her eyes for a minute as the familiar faces flashed in front of her eyes. She remembered them, or did she? She felt sick again as reality blurred with the images in her mind and she turned around to go back, but found herself facing the entrance to the Labyrinth instead. Her stomach dropped out and Sarah bent over and threw up, all the reality she had been through before coming back to her in a flood. It _was_ real, she had known it! How could everyone she loved lied to her so?

"Ho-Hoggle?" Sarah felt weak from expelling the water in her stomach and she stood slowly, looking at the stone in front of her. Hoggle was right beside her now, his wrinkled eyes looking up at her.

"Sarah!" He wrapped his stubby arms around her legs and pulled back quickly. "I've been meaning to talk to you for some time, young miss."

"How do you get into the Labyrinth?" Sarah asked sluggishly, her eyes rolling into the back of her head for a moment with a severed memory.

Hoggle let out an slow, exasperated sigh as he realized that Sarah was not in her right mind. He looked up at her, as she looked at the doors of the hallway blankly, as though she was somewhere else completely. He took her soft hand in his leathery one and pulled her forward. "I can show you the way in," he said gently, knowing he'd have to take this slower than he'd wanted.

Suddenly a baby cried and Sarah's eyes went wild, looking left and right at the recently opened Labyrinth doors, which were really just the doors out of the maternity ward. A hand flew to her mouth and she breathed a name, _Cora_. Hoggle stared, confused. If she was imagining the Labyrinth from before, she had some details quirked, but he didn't want to push it this time.

"I have to find the castle," Sarah said dreamily, stepping to the right. "I think I remember my way there." She took a small step forward, and put her hand out to touch the rough walls she saw, but instead felt a smooth coldness that she hadn't expected. As she walked she dragged her fingers along the wall, cocking her head slightly to the right as she watched her fingers go over bumps, but didn't feel them.

"It was this way, anyway," she finished, turning abruptly to the right and allowing herself to go through the wall. "There were shortcuts before that I didn't take, should I take them Hoggle?"

Hoggle still held her hand, and was walking alongside her, quiet. Now he spoke. "Sarah, Jareth is plannin' something just awful for you…"

"I know," she interrupted, turning again. "He took Cora and I have to find her before the clock runs out. I've got to find her. I've got to…"

"No, Sarah," Hoggle said firmly, pulling on her hand to stop her. "That's not it at all. Jareth intends on taking you and keeping you in the Labyrinth forever. He's been obsessed with it for years now, and finally decided that he was going to just up and take you away, trick you into wishing yourself to the Labyrinth and then make you stay. He's got somethin' else horrible planned that he weren't keen to talk about, but all I know is that he's got it in for you, and even if I can never talk to you again, I wants ya to be happy where you choose to be, not where he wants ya to be…"

"Come on Hoggle," Sarah murmured, as though she hadn't heard him at all, pulling on his hand to go with her down the Labyrinth in her mind toward a destination that didn't exist.

xxxxxx

Pat awoke with a start. The baby had stirred in its cradle, but had promptly gone back to sleep. He stretched from his awkward position and looked around the room drowsily, but felt his heart go into fire alarm mode as his eyes fell on the empty bed beside him. Sarah. She was gone! He looked at the door, no ideas as to where she might have gone. Did a nurse take her for a walk? Did she go somewhere with her parents? Or worse, did she take off by herself?

He bolted from his chair and flung the door open as quietly as he could. He practically ran to the nurse's desk, where two nurses in floral print sat doing paperwork.

"My wife," he said breathily, "Have you seen her? Sarah, Sarah Williams," he added, in case they didn't know her face.

"She should still be in her room," one of the nurses said calmly, quirking an eyebrow at Pat. "She was asleep from the morphine last time anyone checked on her," the nurse added.

"Well, she's not there now," Pat burst, slamming a fist on the desk. "Dammit, she's not supposed to be up!"

Without waiting for another word from the nurses, Pat took off down the hall, where he almost slipped in a pile of vomit. He stopped just in time to avoid it and as he pushed the doors open to go around, he heard the faint, silky tones of Sarah. His heart quickened and before he shoved the doors open completely he looked back at the nurses.

"My parents are in the lobby getting coffee; let them know Sarah is missing. Please check on my daughter while I find my wife, send security to help the search. She might bleed out if she rips one of those stitches!"

The nurses looked at each other briefly before springing into action, and Pat left them making calls and waving over other nurses to help. Sarah's voice had disappeared in the din of the hospital so he picked up his pace, but he couldn't see her or hear her. He was passing through the back halls of the hospital now, now he was near the lobby. Robert and Karen and Toby came flying toward him, as though they had seen a ghost.

"Toby, go back and wait with your niece in case Sarah comes back to the room," Robert said sternly as he craned his neck around a corner trying to spot Sarah.

"But, Dad!"

"No 'buts' right now, Toby, please. It's important that someone be there that she knows when she gets back. _Please_." Karen's voice was soothing in the panic that could be felt in Robert's voice.

Toby sighed, but he shrugged and hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulders and took off in the opposite direction of his parents and brother-in-law. He didn't much like the idea of not being able to search for his sister, because he was just as worried as everyone else, but they did have a point. Plus, it would be much easier to read in the quiet of the room, rather than try and sit in that loud lobby.

Robert and Karen went in one direction while Pat went in another. They decided to regroup in the lobby after five minutes if they couldn't find any sign of Sarah; the police might need to be called, but who would let a patient out of the hospital wearing nothing more than a thin piece of cotton and dragging an IV stand? Their only concern was that the hospital was so large, and there were so few people who could cover all that area. How would they know they didn't pass her, or if she went to an area they had already just checked? The level of fear rose with each passing moment.

After a few minutes of running through the halls, Pat finally caught the voice of Sarah down a seemingly abandoned section of a corridor. She was holding the hand of a very bent old man, talking to him as though she had known him her whole life, but the words she was saying didn't make any sense to Pat. They were walking down a long, white hallway, headed toward a giant pane of glass, but Sarah kept calling it the "Bog of Eternal Stench" – whatever that was supposed to mean. Her feet her kind of dragging behind her, as though she wasn't in full control of her body, and she just kept trucking toward that glass pane.

"Sarah!" Pat's voice was a thin and desperate shout, and he raced after her, as though he could catch her in the long distance between them.

He was very worried as he ran, noticing that she didn't even seem to see the glass, when all of a sudden she made an abrupt and sharp left turn down another unseen corridor. Pat's heart slowed a little, knowing his wife wasn't going to be falling out of the building, but he still ran, to try and catch up with her to get her. Maybe he'd ask the little man why he didn't stop Sarah, shake him around a bit. That seemed like a good plan to Pat.

xxxxxx

Sarah heard her name being called on the wind that flowed over the Labyrinth, but the piercing cries of an infant in her ears drove her forward. She pushed herself harder and harder, her steps becoming stronger and quicker as she went, and she felt good, like she knew she would rescue her baby, like she had rescued Toby before. Hoggle did his best to keep up with her, but he kept talking to her about the king's plans, which Sarah was convinced she already knew. She had already talked to Jareth about it; she had to beat the Labyrinth before the time ran out or she'd lose Cora. It was all so very familiar.

Just as Sarah could see the castle in front of her, the Bog of Eternal Stench _smelled_ into view and redirected her in another direction to get away from the fumes. She kept moving though, knowing that if she gave up she would lose for sure. Suddenly she was in the grassy gardens, much closer to the castle than she had been before. She pressed on, harder now that the cries were practically in her ears. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and an old adage forming on her lips… it wasn't fair. No one had wished away Cora, this wasn't fair! Why should she have to fight for something that was always rightfully hers?

Hoggle kept trying to talk to Sarah, but she only went on about the Labyrinth and Cora, whoever that was, and how she didn't think this was fair. Sometimes, Hoggle was sure Sarah had no idea what she was talking about, but he let her talk and drag him along. It was nice to see his friend again, even if this was the last time they would ever see each other; Hoggle knew that once Jareth found out he had helped Sarah, Hoggle would pay the ultimate price.

Suddenly Sarah clutched her stomach in pain. It felt like she had been bitten by one of those repulsive little goblins! She tried to take another step, tried to push on, but the pain only got worse. She cried out softly, and Hoggle turned his face up to look at her. Sarah was staring at the hand she pulled away from her stomach. It was covered in blood. Slow lines of blood were starting to trickle out from between her knees, slowly now, but every movement she made seemed to urge the blood to flow faster and faster. Hoggle's eyes went very wide with shock, and he squeezed her hand softly, transporting them both with magic he knew he shouldn't have used. Jareth would definitely catch on that Hoggle was there, but Sarah needed to be helped by the humans; there was nothing he could do now.


	12. twelve: from Toby

_A/N: Dearest readers, it has been far too long. Never has this story been far from my dreams, and after a very rough period in my life I have vowed t_o_ do my best to get this story completed for you. This chapter has been many weeks in the writing, and as I neared its finish I realized there were many errors in the beginning that needed corrected. I have made many edits to all chapters. If you haven't read it recently, I think you will enjoy the subtle changes. If you don't want to, as I have stated in my new AN at the beginning, you probably don't need to reread it because the content is generally the same. The change was more or less for me so that I could be happy with the ending that is coming. I want to extend a huge thanks to all the reviewers, and especially to Tater for sticking with me since the beginning. :)_

_Now, say it with me again: kal-uh-seez__. Read: Calyces.  
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Toby grumbled as he trudged back to Sarah's hospital room. He hated, really hated, being treated like a baby. A nurse was in there with Cora when he entered, and he took off his backpack, not quite throwing it to the ground but with enough force to make the nurse look up angrily at him. He stared back at her, as though daring her to say something, but instead she smoothed a hand over the infant's head and turned to leave. She checked the chart at the door and scribbled something in it, shot a glance back at Toby, then left, leaving Toby to watch over the baby.

Toby reached absently into his bag, and pulled out the weary notebook. The little black thing was tattered and torn, scribbled in and on, and read cover to cover. To say Toby was obsessed would be the understatement of the year – Toby lived the Goblin King. Everything that had ever been mentioned was researched meticulously by the boy, and he knew the literature quite well. It was amazing that so many different cultures had experienced the same thing, though variations had occurred over the years. It was all so fascinating to Toby and he didn't quite understand why, but nevertheless he poured over the pages once again while he waited for his parents.

Only a few minutes had passed when Cora awoke from whatever slumber she was in, and started crying softly. Toby looked over at her, and though she stopped crying, she continued to fuss. He rolled his eyes, but didn't close his book. A few uncomfortable moments passed, and then the baby was quiet again; Toby's eyes darted back to his notes. He had drawings of goblins, and phrases in German and Welch that he didn't understand. He had tried to make a point of learning how to say things, and though he was not proficient at the languages, he did a decent enough recitation of the pronunciation. In his fervor, Toby had met with several tutors so he could learn accents and phrases, though he had never let his tutors see the notes he desired to read.

His eyes scanned the portion of his notes concerning changelings, and he was so fascinated that people once believed it to be true. For as sucked into the fantasy as Toby was, he also had a foot firmly ground in the scientific present. As much as he might have wished it all to be true, Toby knew that it could not be so. It might have been the curse of his generation, but if there was not some sort of study to go with it, or a university's credentials beside it, it was rather hard for him to accept. And yet, he lapped up the literature on the Goblin King like honey, allowing his young mind for a while to believe that it was possible.

Cora started to fuss again, this time louder, but by now Toby was involved in his reading, and he was irritated at her. He glanced over the edge of his book in the direction of the baby. The emotions coursing through him were much mixed. For all the happiness he had for his sister over having a baby, he was also mad at her. He needed her, and she was so selfish! He could not be mad at the baby for this, because the baby had no choice in the matter. But the baby _did_ have a choice in how loud it cried. That ground into his already rattled nerves and he glared for a moment before returning to his book, reading his notes instead of tending to the cries.

"Let her cry," he thought to himself bitterly. "She's Pat and Sarah's problem, not mine."

Cora did not like being ignored, not when she was hungry and wet and cold and unattended. Her mouth practically ripped open in a scream, and she cried louder than she ever had before. Her lungs functioned perfectly, and yet Toby ignored her still. His frustration boiled over and he could no longer read to himself. He was bigger than her, and he could talk over her any day. He began reading out loud from his notes, reading about the changelings with relish. What he would give for one of those mute, dull children of the goblins! It would be better than the red, screaming mass that was there now, the thing he did _not_ want to care for. It wasn't fair that he was left here all alone with her when Sarah was off doing whatever she wanted.

Toby stood angrily, the chair falling back. The baby started at this, screaming even louder. He closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them again. His grip on his book was steely, and he read the words aloud unfeeling, loudly, over the baby's cries. The Old English was usually flowery to speak, but in the moment it was condemning and cold. There were undertones of witch-hunter in his voice, and for a moment Toby sounded very reminiscent of Puritan pastors condemning the evils of the world.

"Be wary of uttering such powerful words, as the faery goblins take the spoken word as the writ, and hold it to be binding to anyone who would speak thus." This passage had confounded Toby since he had first read it, as the words had only vague meaning to the boy. Though the words on the page were marked as dangerous, Toby could not understand them, so he did not believe in them, nor give weight to them. Dully, in the back of his brain, there was a small voice warning him to consider actually saying the next passage, but Cora shrieked all of a sudden and Toby could take it no longer. "Stupid baby!" he muttered, then his eyes passed over the passage as it had thousands of times before. "I wish the goblins would come take you away, right now!"

The menace in his voice was dripping, and for a moment nothing seemed to change, and Toby was about to move on to the next line, when all of a sudden the noise in the room was gone, sucked out. The grip Toby had on his binder loosened in a heartbeat and it tumbled to the ground, as though there has been a spell on him that was now over. Toby's obsession with the Goblin King was at an end, though the fever he could not explain still remained. He blinked rapidly, not understanding what was going on at first, and then he realized that there was a deafening silence consuming the room. He was only a few feet away from Cora's cradle, so he walked over slowly, but as he approached, he already had the sinking feeling that she was gone. It took but a quick, stomach-sinking glance to see she was indeed gone. Though the love affair was over, Toby's research played over and over in his mind. He knew full well what had happened, or what he thought had happened; the same had happened to him when he was a baby. What he did not know was what would happen next. Would it be the same for him as with Sarah?

The shutters on the windows fluttered as a draft seemed to suck the remaining air out of the room, and Toby closed his eyes. There couldn't be a way for the Goblin King to be real, right? There was no such thing… but then again, all the research! Such things could not be chalked up to coincidence, not with that much supporting evidence. Toby shuddered as he felt a coldness enter the room, as though a shadow had fallen upon him. When he opened his eyes, sure enough, there was a dark figure in the sill, standing on the ledge. Toby could not find his voice to yelp, or else he would have. The figure descended from the window slowly, and he was forehead to chin with a tall blond man.

"Toby, I have been expecting you." The man's voice was cool, musical.

Toby's head fell slightly to the side with his natural curiosity. "Who are you?"

"I'm surprised you don't recognize me," the man's false shock was cleared away by a biting smile. "You should know who I am from your notes, and if nothing else you _have_ seen me before. Don't you know?"

Toby's eyes followed the small path the man took in front of him. Of course, this must be the Goblin King, who else would it be in this madness?

"Your majesty," Toby said with a sweep of his arm in a small bow. "It has been long since we last were in the same room together if I am to understand correctly.'

"So unlike your sister," Jareth sighed to himself, while raising an eyebrow and putting on a smile. "So polite! I wish your sister had the same manners you had when I last spoke with her. Tell me, where is she?"

"I don't know where Sarah is," Toby said rigidly. "But I would like to ask a question."

"I haven't got all day," Jareth said impatiently, closing the subject on Sarah quickly.

"Where is Cora?"

"Ah, yes, the dear infant." Jareth's smile broadened into a grin. "Why, she is where you asked, in the Castle of the Goblin City, beyond the Labyrinth walls, being well tended by my nursemaids. Such a pity you didn't want to take care of her. Such a sweet child. Too bad I'll have to turn her into a goblin…"

"What? No!" Toby's face paled. He had never read anything about that!

"Of course, surely you should have read that in your dusty tomes somewhere." Jareth's voice was nonchalant and matter-of-fact.

"Please, you can't take Sarah's baby," Toby said instantly. He had never felt such guilt or pain in his life before. If only he had known before, he would not have been so careless with his words. "Maybe… your highness," Toby added politely. "If we might be able to make some sort of… arrangement?"

Jareth hid the catty grin he felt inside. "I am not sure I would want anything you have to offer."

"Surely you are a rational king," Toby said keenly. "You must negotiate all the time. I would very much like to have my niece back."

"And what would you do? What would you give?"

Toby paused, but only for a minute. "I would do anything, and to give? I am not sure I understand."

"Say we make this like a wager," Jareth said, materializing crystals in his palm. He began to twirl them around his fingers, this way and that in a mesmerizing dance. "If you want her so bad, that will be my ante if you win. If, however, you lose, I keep her."

"No, please," Toby shook his head. "Sarah would never forgive me – those stakes are much too high."

"And yet, those are the stakes," Jareth shrugged. "You can either take them or leave them."

Toby bit his lip, unsure. Jareth turned to go, but Toby shouted, "Wait! No, I'll do it."

Jareth, with his back to the boy, felt the smirk form and allowed it to play out coolly. He turned back around, holding out his arm to the boy. A door formed in the white space between the windows of the room, and it opened where the wall should have been, revealing a yellow, dusty plains and a great, long wall. "Step inside," Jareth ordered, and Toby did so. Jareth looked across the room, at the door frame, where Sarah had just entered and now stood motionless, her mouth agape but silent, her voice lost in a mix of hallucination and reality. Jareth smiled at her and closed the door quickly behind him, not seeing Sarah as she collapsed on the freshly bloody tiles below.

In the Underground, Toby simply stared at the vastness of the Labyrinth before him. He shook his head, trying to clear his eyes, but Jareth stepped behind him before Toby had more time to adjust.

"Your sister ran the Labyrinth in ten hours." He paused, looking at the waif about to take on his maze. "I dare you to do it in less."

Toby turned around, his face contorted with a question. "How long do you usually give people to run the Labyrinth?"

Jareth was taken aback by the question, as though it would be obvious, but did not lose his composure. "Thirteen hours. Less if they displease me." He glared down at the boy.

"And how long do I have?"

"I will give you thirteen hours as well. That starts… now." Jareth's laughter echoed across the dust and faded as he disappeared from view.

Toby stuck out his chin, defiant, just like his sister. However, Toby was not a brat like Sarah was. Instead, he put straight toward the wall, at a light jog. He passed the same stagnant pools as Sarah had, but there was no biting-fairy killing dwarf to be seen, no helpful person to talk to. Toby began observing the walls carefully. There didn't seem to be a way in, but he ran his hand over the wall, hoping there would be cracks. As he jogged, he didn't notice any. This might prove a problem; trying to run a Labyrinth when you didn't have a way in? Definitely tricky.

Toby stopped and stared at the wall. There had to be a logical answer to it all, there had to be. The wall had seams, like an egg roll, and were cracked around those seams. He straightened. If there was no way through, there was a way over. He wiped the sweat from his palms on his jeans and grabbed a crack, lifting himself. Hand and foot, over and over, until Toby finally sat on the top of the wall. He could see the stretch of the Labyrinth; it scaled on for what seemed like miles. He sighed. There was no time to waste then.

He lowered himself with a dried bramble, avoiding as best he could the thorns that stuck out at all angles. He landed on the other side, and immediately began picking the briars out of his palms, wandering to the right. The corridor stretched on forever it seemed, so Toby started his jog again. He kept his eyes peeled for openings, but he didn't see any, so he slowed to a walk, taking better care to observe his surroundings. He noticed more cracks in the wall, but looking down at his bleeding hands, he knew he wouldn't be able to scale any more walls today. Instead, he gazed left, right, left… hoping for a doorway or path to branch off. His mind did not take in the eyes watching him on the wall, or the tiny hole where the worm once lived. Instead, he started stopping every few feet, inspecting. There was no way the corridor could stretch on forever, he had seen twists and turns. And after a quarter hour of searching, Toby found one of those cracks, and he entered it.

Now he had a choice, left or right. He made a left, which led to shabby looking shrubs. For an hour he wandered left and right and right and left, hoping he was moving closer to the center of the Labyrinth. He did his best, but after another hour he had lost his sense of direction, and his feet were tired. The shrubs had grown to be very wild, and brambles started to stick out. He turned around to go back, but was met with a solid line of very thick, wild looking shrub. He stared a little, knowing he had just come from there, but as he turned around, maybe he hadn't. He was tired, perhaps, but enough to lose his mind already? He only had ten hours left, and he needed to concentrate. He shook his head slightly, and picked another path, leading away from the brambles.

Toby noticed how quiet it was, and how loud his shoes sounded on the stone. His thoughts seemed especially loud. He thought of Sarah, in her fragile state back at the hospital, of Cora, and how scared the newborn probably was, and the strange Goblin King, and how he talked as if Toby should have known more than he really did. Then the questions started pouring into his mind. Oh, the questions! There were too many to wrap his brain around, so he focused on his surroundings and the things he could touch and observe.

One of those questions happened to be, where were all the animals? In fact, Toby hadn't seen even a bird flying over the Labyrinth since he started. It was rather strange, but then again, it was a dusty, deserted plain that surrounded it. Then again, the shrubs were green, so there was some form of life, and there were bugs it seemed, so birds should have naturally been attracted to the place. Right? Of course, Toby also remembered his sister's diary, and how she recalled many strange creatures during her trip. Talking animals, strange, headless things. He shook his head – he would have to believe it, he was, after all, far from the hospital.

Perhaps it was this line of thinking that kept Toby distracted from the small blue-green ball of fluff that had been rolling behind him for some time. The Calyces had been reading the boy for some time, probing as to what shape it should take. There was a host of various creatures, colorful and wonderfully terrible at once. But, sadistic as they were, the Calyces following Toby had a particular knack for treachery, for setting a nasty trap and relishing in the snap of the trap closing around its prey. It waited for Toby to stop and look about before it rolled in front of him and took shape.

Toby, completely unaware of the devious thing, was startled when the little yellow ball of fur blurred crossed his path. He stopped in his tracks, taken aback. The brambles rustled, and then a nose appeared, and Toby dropped to the stone tile to look. It might not have been wise, the little spit could have taken his face clean off, but for a moment Toby thought he recognized it… then all of a sudden, the thing pulled into view. His eyes went very wide, and he took in the life-sized Pikachu. It approached him, sniffing, then rolled over on its back and exposed its tummy. He shot a wary glance, not moving. The critter looked up at him almost with impatience and rolled back over, inching closer. Toby moved his hand away, but it kept moving closer, when it suddenly changed course and rubbed against his leg and… purred?

"What are you?" Toby's voice seemed booming in the silence. Little paws pushed on his knee and he tentatively held out a hand. This was surreal… and that was saying something considering where he was. A warm tongue licked at his hand, and he felt a strange wave of happiness wash over him. How odd… he hadn't actually felt it himself at all. It was like, almost like the feeling was radiating from the Pikachu. He blushed, realizing the silliness of the name. But still, how odd! His fingers scratched like he would on a cat, and the happiness waved over him again. Ok, definitely coming from the… thing.

"Well, I can't call you Pikachu without going insane, so I think… I think I'll just call you Steve instead." Yes, that would work very well. Toby looked down at the thing – Steve – and it purred at him, but didn't make any other noise. He stared for a moment before rising, looking about him once again. The walls had moved again, he was sure of it this time. Two ways presented before him, left and right, that had not been there a moment ago. Such maddening changes would surely drive the normal person cross-eyed, but Toby eyed each way with weight, but after a moment of his staring and Steve rolling around at his feet, he sighed and closed his eyes. What was he going to do? It didn't feel… fair.

Suddenly, as if Steve could read his mind, it rolled onto his left foot and sat there, purring and sending little waves up happy up his leg. Toby's eyes cracked and looked down, not sure what to think. Obviously, the thing wasn't unfriendly. It would have bit him or something to that extent if it wasn't. What had Sarah's journals said about the Labyrinth? Something about… but Toby's mind couldn't wrap around it. Damnit! He was too preoccupied with all that had happened to remember his journal, left lying on the ground at the hospital.

He bent over again and scooped Steve up in one hand, and bright eyes peered back at him from the higher vantage. "Steve, I need your help," he said softly. He felt ridiculous, talking to a real-live cartoon, but what else could he do? He didn't know which way to go and it obviously lived in the corridors of the Labyrinth.

Steve purred in reply, then walked across Toby's arm and sat on his shoulder. Toby's eyes followed, and for a moment he fought the urge to say a 'wow, so cliché' out loud. Instead, he said, "You live here, so I assume you know your way around. Could you help me?" Purr and happiness. "Ok. Which way should I go to get to the castle?"

All of a sudden it dawned on Toby that his new companion didn't actually speak. His strategy would have to change. "Left?" He moved to go to the left and was hit by a wave of nausea, so hard he almost doubled over and threw up. He backed up and the feeling subsided. He eyed Steve. "So, not left then. Right?" Steve bounced a little and purred again, more happiness. Toby moved to go to the left, fearing perhaps another wave of nausea, but nothing. He shrugged slightly. Either way was as good as he would have chosen at this point.

For some time, Toby followed the right passage, running into a few dead ends and twisted turns on his way. Another hour passed, and as he traveled through the hedge maze, he noticed subtle changes. Cracks stopped appearing when a stone wall would show, hedges seemed more neat and trimmed, and weeds thinned and then disappeared altogether. Toby was pleased at his choice and his speed increased. The lack of life in the maze did scare him a little, but as he moved silently, trying not to think of anything but Cora and Sarah, and his ability to keep moving. This was like an exam at school, but 1000 times worse, because so much more than a bad mark was at stake.

After what felt like another hour, Toby reached a large courtyard-like area. He slowed, taking in the surroundings. There was not much there except for a stone seat and some flower pots rising on a high dais. His legs ached, so he took a seat and rubbed his legs. His ever-silent companion hopped off and sniffed around the stone flags, and Toby leaned back, closing his eyes as he did so. He hoped he had enough time. When he opened his eyes a few moments later, a large, dark, looming castle swam into view. The castle! He bolted up and stood on the seat, peering over the tops of the hedges. It was much larger now than when he first started, and though he couldn't see a path through to the castle, he knew that he was at least halfway.

"Yes!" He punched the air as he jumped off the chair. His exclamation of joy was cut short, however. Toby wasn't even mid-pump when he spotted the shadowy figure of the Goblin King; the figure sweltered the courtyard and then filled his view.

"How are you enjoying my labyrinth?" Jareth's voice was collected and emotionless, and Toby eyed him cautiously.

Toby considered his words – something Sarah never did. "I don't know for sure," Toby said, equally as collected. "I've only been through half of it so far, so I won't be able to give you the best opinion until I have finished."

"If you finish," the Goblin King corrected.

"Why do you assume I won't?" Toby asked passionately, exhibiting the temperamental flair Sarah possessed.

"My dear boy," Jareth purred, "hardly anyone ever finishes my labyrinth. They give up, turn back, or get sent back to the beginning as penalty…"

Toby gulped. "I was not made aware there were penalties to running the maze."

"Labyrinth." This correction was not as kind. Then, "You never inquired about them."

Toby's eyes clouded, but he tried to be calm. "Perhaps that is because there was never an impression that there would need to be penalties to trying to get to the center of the _Labyrinth._"

"Well, that's a stupid assumption." The Goblin King's scoff was curt and cold. "When you are a guest to someone, there are always rules, and when you break those rules, there are consequences."

Toby wanted to scream. He could feel the blood filling his head, the steam pouring from his ears, but instead of screaming he bit his lip, saying, "What are the rules, if you please?"

Jareth laughed what might have been a genuine belly laugh, but stopped too quickly for as much. "The number one rule is, no crossing the King. The number two rule is, complete the labyrinth on time."

Toby waited a few moments. "Are those all the rules?"

"Yes."

"… and the penalties?"

Jareth's eyes gleamed. "Whatever I happen to deem appropriate at the time."

"Examples?"

"Sending you to the oubliette, back to the beginning, setting trolls to come after you."

"And what would you define as 'crossing the King', your Majesty?" Toby kept his voice as innocent and calm as possible.

"Asking too many questions," Jareth snapped, glaring at the boy. "Whatever puts me in an ill mood, that is what." Suddenly, Jareth paused and half smiled, half smirked. "Toby, would you accept a gift from me?"

Toby curtly shook his head and said, "Thank you but no, it is not polite to accept gifts from strangers."

"What a pity." The words were like ice. "Farewell then!"

Toby moved to say something again, but before he could breathe the Goblin King was gone in a puff of wispy smoke and shimmer. Toby's face fell – he probably did ask too many questions. He hoped he wouldn't be penalized as a result of his remarks, but rather than dwell on himself he took another look toward the castle and jumped down from his perch. Steve wandered from behind a bush somewhere and seemed interested in blades of grass growing up between the cobbles, but at a motion from Toby scampered back onto the boy's shoulder.

"I hope we get there soon," Toby said calmly, trying not to pay attention to the furry ball. "I don't want to get a penalty."

Toby put his feet on the path to what he believed was the castle, watching the greenery grow more and more proud and defined as he walked. Minutes slipped into hours and he passed many hedges that seemed the same. He passed through stone walls decorated with dried fountains, doors that would not budge, and yet as he walked the only living things he encountered were plants. Of course, Steve did not seem to mind Toby's mindless ramblings about what he was experiencing, though as a companion Steve was rather useless as he never spoke back but rather emoted in reply.

After what felt like forever Toby's tired feet began dragging, clipping the stones, until he almost fell over. He slowed, not realizing his grueling pace or his dull stare into nothingness, and looked around with alert eyes. He was much nearer than he would have guessed himself; the stones thinned ahead of him into a dirt path, and the hedges and stone walls gave way to a woodsy area. He looked up, staring at the tall pinnacles of the towers and realized he was almost to his destination. He almost gave another shout for joy, but remembered his last exuberated remark's consequences – there was no way he wanted to meet that man again! He looked down as he realized he feared the Goblin King a little more than he had initially realized, but looked up as a chilling wave went down his spine and a hurried purr went into his ear.

From the woods he could hear nothing, not the shrill cry of a bird, or the babbling of water from a stream. There was nothing, not even a wind stirring. It was dead, except for where it was alive. The chill that went down his back crept up his neck, making the little hairs stand on end. He had to go in there, it was the only logical way, and yet, he did not want to go in. There was a significant part of him that wanted to give up and just go home. He wasn't really… _scared_, but in the same heartbeat he dreaded going into the forest.

Just as Toby was about to turn around and give up, he heard the cry of a baby, which he could only assume was Cora. It was distant, but not so far away that he couldn't hear the howling. He tucked his chin under and urged his feet to keep moving, determined now more than ever to keep going. In his heart, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as he stepped from the sun of the labyrinth to the shade of the forest, but he kept moving forward, set on at least getting out of the woods. He had to at least _try_.


	13. thirteen: from Jareth

Jareth was never one to waste time, but often time was slotted for nothing other than wasting. As soon as Toby knew his time limit and his objective, Jareth returned back to his throne room, where a horde of goblins were waiting anxiously. The castle was unusually quiet for such an occasion, as the instructions had almost been painfully laid out for all. There was to be no ruckus, no partying, no distractions. In this there was no room to argue, as the order from the king had come in the severest and most somber of tones. The chickens were even quiet in the Goblin City, content to peck at the dirt for fallen bits of bread or grain. On this day, no one disobeyed the king except one, who was not within the king's reach.

With great sweeping gestures of his cape and a lethal eye to all who waited in the throne room, Jareth left as quickly as he appeared. He stalked the long, cold corridors of the castle in silence, reveling for a moment in the peace that his mood could illicit. Unremarkable wooden doors passed him, until he finally stopped in front of one. Behind it, he could hear cooing, and the soothing tones of the Elven language. He smiled softly, then opened the door without a sound. Before him was a slender green Elven woman, sent by Lucian as a game token, cradling the dark-haired babe, Cora.

Sarah's baby had cried loudly when she had been taken, but the nursemaid had quieted her quickly. She was so _new_, so innocent. After a second of hesitation, Jareth stepped forward, slipping Cora into his hands so he could get a better look at her. He stood there, lost in his thoughts as he gazed at Sarah's sleeping babe. He had held the forms of many children in his time, of all ages and colors. There were no words in any language to describe the hurt in the faces of those children when they realized they were wished away and were not wanted back. Even fewer words could describe the difficulty of explaining that to the innocents in the situation.

Nevertheless, the Call bound him to take those willed away. The Call did not say that Jareth had to turn children into Goblins, and usually, Jareth didn't. A monster to some people some of the time, in general he was considered a compassionate king, taking pity on those who did not or could not have a voice for themselves. Children were usually sent to the High Court to learn and serve. And, as a rational, thoughtful king, Jareth was usually open for dialogue when it came to those who were willing to make such propositions as to barter to get the children back. The more unsavory curse of Goblin half-lives were reserved for those who traded themselves for their children, especially those who found themselves on the opposite end of His Majesty's favor. Of course, sometimes he sent the wishers away to serve in unpleasant kingdoms if they were especially contrite, though this was a rare gesture on his part.

Sarah's baby, Cora, would neither be turned into a servant of the Underground nor into a Goblin as Jareth had told Toby. No, this beautifully blameless babe would remain unharmed while in his care. The infant stirred in her sleep but remained still, and Jareth handed her back to the nurse. No words were spoken, but the king's mismatched eyes stared hard into the green ones looking back at him. _Do not let harm befall her,_he warned silently before leaving the room.

Having done his duty to Cora, Jareth wandered further through the stone passages of his castle, his mind both completely empty and full at once. Soon his feet wound the path hugging a tower, one from which he could survey the majority of the Labyrinth from, and there he paced, silent and brooding over nothing. The anxious tension in the room was thick, but Jareth held himself from spying on Toby.

When Sarah had run, he had spied too much and meddled, possibly spurring her to work harder. The opposite was what he desired, so he too must behave opposite of what he would normally wish. Pace, pace, turn, pace. He needed no crystals to tell him time was passing slowly but efficiently onward, and the sun moving across the window sill also served as a reminder. Still, he paced. Little lines, then circles, then back to lines. No thoughts, no hopes, no fantasies passed through his finely trained mind to keep the hours as they slipped by. He focused on everything and nothing, watching his feet as they made dizzying patterns on the floor, listening to the crushing sound of leather against leather as he clasped his hands behind his back. Finally, Jareth could bear the thoughtlessness no further and spun a crystal into existence.

Toby was already at the hedges? This was much further along in the Labyrinth than Jareth wanted. And what was that _horribly obnoxious_ bright yellow creature on his shoulder? No such thing existed in _his_ realm! But wait! Jareth gave pause as he watched the scene in his crystal. The creature's eyes were so blank and unseeing, which could only mean one creature.

The chill realization broke across Jareth like a wave and he grinned to himself. Ah, but of course! The Calyces! He should have known! And yet, Toby chatted on to the unspeaking creature, as if it were a companion. Jareth shook his head slightly in disbelief. How little the boy knew! How trusting!

"_What a shame, really_," Jareth thought to himself. If Jareth were to have his way, much of that would change in time.

Now Toby was resting, and Jareth knew that it was time to remind the boy that he needed to keep on his toes… and that the Goblin King was always watching, even if he weren't really. The sun was dipping low – there were only a few hours left before Toby's time was up and he would lose. He had to lose. Jareth wouldn't have it any other way, no; he couldn't have it any other way. It was essential for Toby to continue to do the King's bidding, even if the boy bumbled along completely unawares. The crystal showed Toby's eyes, now seeing the castle within a supposed reach. The boy's joy was beginning to crack into a smile when Jareth crackled out of the tower in a swirl of crisp power and summoned himself to the courtyard.

"Yes!" Toby's shout for joy was honest and clear, and Jareth let him savor that moment, but only for the one moment.

"How are you enjoying my labyrinth?" Like ice Jareth let his voice cut through the happiness, sending it shattering into pieces around the boy's feet. Toby's face looked perfectly petrified, and inwardly Jareth relished it; it meant that Toby had a real fear, even if he couldn't understand why.

"I don't know for sure," Toby's voice was thin and wavered slightly, though he put on a good show of bravery. "I've only been through half of it so far, so I won't be able to give you the best opinion until I have finished."

"If you finish." Jareth's voice inflected little emotion. Statistically, the numbers were against Toby by about a million to one. It was entirely possible for Toby to finish, of course; Sarah had, but only Sarah.

"Why do you assume I won't?" The flair of adolescence rose in Toby's voice and it cracked. So, Toby was his sister's brother after all!

"My dear boy…" Jareth coated his voice with honey to ease the boy's temper. He didn't want an incident of mixed signals, where words might cross and Jareth's temper get the better of him. No, he had to behave differently if he wanted his way. "Hardly anyone ever finishes my labyrinth." _No one, I should say, except your sister._"They give up, turn back, or get sent back to the beginning as penalty…" There was a little too much enjoyment at the end of the last; it was a small detail he had purposely failed to give.

"I was not made aware there were penalties to running the maze." Toby's unease played like fishes through his words.

Jareth furrowed his eyebrows angrily. So much for keeping tempers uncrossed. What an insult! "Labyrinth." Jareth couldn't control the unkindness in his voice. The Labyrinth was a unique being, and though not a something, or a someone, she had powers and a personality that Jareth was fond of. She was… like a child in a sort of manner to Jareth. He didn't take kindly to those who spoke ill of her. But, remembering his manners, he softened his next words. "You never inquired about them."

"Perhaps that is because there was never an impression that there would need to be penalties to trying to get to the center of the _Labyrinth._"

Toby's irritation grew and Jareth knew he better tread more lightly, but he couldn't resist himself. Toby, like Sarah, just knew which buttons to push to make the Goblin King snap and say things he shouldn't. "Well, that's a stupid assumption." His voice was edgy as he spoke, and he did his best to retain his composure and politeness. "When you are a guest to someone, there are always rules, and when you break those rules, there are consequences."

Suddenly, Toby bit his lip and looked toward the ground, as if biting back something he knew he shouldn't say. He curtly asked, "What are the rules, if you please?"

The sudden switch was too much for the moment and briefly there was a lapse in the hardened façade; Jareth allowed a growling laugh to rumble up from the bottom of his toes and escape his lips. For a moment, he laughed in such a manner that few saw, but the look on Toby's face sent the icy façade tumbling back over his face. Jareth glared at Toby with a hard eye, sending the expression Toby had back to oblivion. The rules. There were no rules, except those that he made up at the time. The only rules were the ones he himself had to follow, and those were few. Oh well, might as well make something up.

"The number one rule is, no crossing the King. The number two rule is, complete the labyrinth on time."

A pause. "Are those all the rules?"

A brief reply: "Yes." Jareth watched as the gears pounded away in Toby's head.

"… and the penalties?"

Ah, so he was learning after all! Jareth's eyes flashed as he let sharp teeth emerge for a moment. Might as well allow some truth out; Toby rightly deserved some for his hard work over the summer. "Whatever I happen to deem appropriate at the time."

Taking the proverbial inch, Toby turned it into a mile. "Examples?"

Jareth's teeth ground now and his flashing eyes narrowed. Only a fool would push their luck! He remembered his voice and tried not to growl. Instead, he listed matter-of-factly, "Sending you to the oubliette, back to the beginning, setting trolls to come after you."

"And what would you define as 'crossing the King', your Majesty?"

The impertinence, really! Though Toby tried to disguise his voice, draping it with his childhood innocence, Jareth read his face and could see that Toby was just trying to keep it together. Still, Jareth couldn't let the disagreeable remark stand. He glared at Toby, trying to push his point, and snapped, "Asking too many questions! Whatever puts me in an ill mood, that is what."

Toby winced at the words, no doubt the implications running through his logical little brain. Jareth couldn't stop the grin that crept on his face and sat lopsided on his lips; suddenly he could feel a tingle of joy creeping up his foot. Without even looking down, he could sense the Calyces near him. He wondered aloud, "Toby, would you accept a gift from me?"

Without blinking an eyelash or missing a beat Toby issued his polite refusal. "Thank you but no, it is not polite to accept gifts from strangers."

Jareth shook his head slightly, realizing that Toby had already accepted the greatest gift available in the kingdom that day; help from the most sadistic of creatures Jareth had ever encountered. The smile left his face as he forced control to take over his features. "What a pity." He paused, looking Toby over once, before giving a regal wave of his hand. "Farewell then!"

In a puff he was gone, back to his throne room again. The goblins were chatting quietly amongst themselves, and at Jareth's appearance a hush went over them. He looked around at them, small wretched things that they were. The various eyes looked up at him, waiting for an order, a command, even an insult. They would get no words from their king; instead, he sat down on the horned throne and stared beyond them into nothingness. He didn't tap his crop against his thigh, he didn't lean from one way to another, he didn't even sigh. He simply sat upright, with both hands grasping the ends of the armrests. The only reason the goblins knew he hadn't turned to stone was because of the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the occasional blink of his eyes.

After minutes, they sat. After an hour, some bowed silently and left the room. After two hours, more followed. By the third hour of Jareth's stillness, all the goblins had left the room and no one but the stony king remained. Jareth's thoughts were similar to his pacing in the tower; he tried his absolute hardest to not focus on Toby, or the Labyrinth, or the possibility that Toby would push himself and actually defeat Jareth. This last he tried to keep as far out of his mind as possible. Defeat simply could not happen. What else could he think about? There were matters of state, and mind numbing details that he would need to see to as soon as the game was over. It was entirely selfish of him to want the ordeal to be over with, given the self-affliction of the situation, but at the end he would be rewarded. And of course, the bonus of the whole situation was obtaining the unobtainable – Sarah.

As his mind started to veer toward the obvious, pleasant distraction, an infant's scream ripped through the tranquility of the castle and his mind. The solid grip he had on his throne tightened and he leaned forward as the wailing continued. Cora. His mind raced, free of the bonds he had only just held it in, considering the cause of the cries. He didn't want to punish the elf, but he wouldn't hesitate if he needed to. In a moment he was within the room, reeking of ozone and magic. The nurse sat in a rocking chair, holding a glass bottle to the infant's mouth, which was ripped wide open in a breathless cry. She looked up, her previously fearless eyes darkened by the glowering figure.

"Sire, she only just awoke." Cora's voice swallowed the gentle tones of the elf's. This baby was definitely Sarah's daughter. One arm slowly rocked the baby in an attempt to quiet the fit, but Cora would have none of it. Her little pink lip trembled as she exhaled another great cry. The elf's voice rose in an attempt to be heard, "I have done everything to see to her needs that I possibly can. I am trying to feed her but she won't accept it."

Jareth walked the length of the moderate nursery room in three steps, and loomed over the elf as she rocked. The eyes that looked at the king faltered for a moment as his thoughts swirled before he turned his head to the side and looked out the window, watching as birds in the distance reacted to the noise. No doubt everyone in the vicinity of the castle could hear the babe's cry, especially with the day of silence. He looked back to the thin elf and shook his head.

"I do not blame you, girl. She is but a babe after all." He paused and extended a hand, indicating he wanted to hold the screaming thing. "Let me," he added softly, as the elf lifted Cora up to meet his grip. In one arm he held her, swinging back and forth in a natural manner he didn't expect to feel so… natural. In the other he took up the bottle, warming it with his touch slightly. He hummed softly, deep in his throat, as he swung, easing the bottle toward the girl's mouth. Her eyes were scrunched and unseeing, but her small upturned nose could smell the milk. Little red, balled fists swung madly in the air as instinct took over Cora and she turned her mouth to the rubber nipple, rooting for the point that would provide her sustenance.

Her cries softened as milk began to flow down her throat and into her empty stomach, and even as she drank little shudders of cries shook her face. She couldn't cry and eat at the same time, however, and eventually the swaying of the air around her calmed her and she sucked harder at the nipple, drawing it as far as she could into her little mouth. The bottle was half empty and the king continued to hum, slowing the movement of his waist to a gentle bounce, and Cora settled into the arms that held her.

Jareth, naturally, was overcome with the emotion that swept through him. In all his long years he had never had children of his own, feeling that he was not emotionally ready to bear the responsibility of raising another life. But as he held Cora, and breathed in the fresh scent of her, and could feel her little heart beating in time to his wordless song, he could feel his mind changing. Perhaps the change was not induced by Cora per se, but by the concept that Cora represented; she was Sarah's baby. Sarah. His heart leapt into his throat at the concept of this being not just Sarah's baby, but his as well.

Cora's eyes opened slowly and Jareth smiled as she did so, but his smile fell as he gazed not into green eyes, but brown. Damn, damn, damn! Jareth wanted to curse the day Sarah met Patrick Brown. Reality crashed in on Jareth; he had let the moment run away with him, and forgot that it was not just Sarah's baby. He shivered slightly, and the pleasantness was gone, replaced quickly by a rising bitterness. It didn't feel absolutely right with this one, no. It wouldn't ever feel right unless it was done the right way.

Frowning, he handed the calm child back to the nurse, who took Cora and the bottle and continued the feeding until the baby was asleep once more. Jareth didn't leave, but instead stood by the window, looking at the tops of the trees, and waited for the elf to put away the infant. Bile tried desperately to fight its way into the mouth of the Goblin King but he grimaced and forced it down. His heart beat madly about, confused by the swing in emotion. He loved Sarah, but hated the concept of her bearing anyone else's children; he was jealous and envious and angry.

The elf stood quietly beside the cradle, looking at the king with curious eyes, wondering whatever it was that she wanted to wonder. Jareth didn't want to pay her any more attention than he already had, and the thought of lingering was souring his already foul mood. He turned without seeing and left the room for the last time, not giving a second glance over his shoulder. Regardless of the outcome of this day, he vowed he would not keep the child unless it were a goblin or sent off to one of the far kingdoms. For the love he had for Sarah, he would not turn her daughter into a goblin, and for the innocence Cora possessed she would not suffer. Perhaps the Cherub Queen would find some use for her. Such a pity.

Jareth decided against using his magic to get back to his throne room, and instead walked the abandoned stone corridors. His mind wandered to Toby, who still had four hours left to run the Labyrinth. If his last position was any indication of his progress, the thirteenth hour would come just as he reached the junk yard, which was just not the castle. Jareth rounded a corner and smirked to himself, knowing that at least in this success he was at least guaranteed. He paused at a draped window overlooking his private gardens, and stared down at the roses below. He sighed a little to himself, yearning for the time to enjoy them.

After a few minutes more, Jareth arrived in the empty throne room. The massive wooden doors that opened to the throne were left open as he entered. Wide open, the doors peered down a long corridor that led to massive outer doors that acted as the entrance to the castle. If those doors were also open, he could see the mountains in the distance, and the forests, and the Labyrinth, all from his throne. The design literally allowed him to see the stretch of his land… at least in the one direction. And it would be from that direction that Toby would come, but only too late.

Jareth reviewed the instructions he had given to his subjects in his mind. Total silence for a whole day. Toby was not to be accosted when he neared the city, as Sarah had been. No one was to be out, and if they were, they were supposed to avoid an encounter. No one was to speak to him, upon pain of being submerged in the Bog of Eternal Stench for a year. If he fell and scraped his knee, Jareth didn't even want someone offering him a hand up. Nothing. Toby was completely on his own to prove his salt.

With a dark glare around the emptiness, Jareth suddenly stood and raised his hands high above his head, as though to reach for the sun. He could bear the silence no longer.

"I demand a feast!" he shouted to the empty hall.

The echo of his voice had only begun to die down before the room was filled with his courtiers, staff, and a small army of chickens. Everyone set about moving and talking at once, squabbling about decorations for the castle and the chores needed to be done for the king. Jareth's arms lowered slowly as he looked down from the ceiling toward the buzz in the room, but his smile grew, smirk by smirk. The head cook was already at his side, his small, eager face waiting.

"Good," Jareth purred, mostly to himself. "It is good to know my people still listen." Without looking down at the cook, the king started ordering. "I want meats from every corner of the kingdom, roasted to succulence. I want platters of the finest fruits and vegetables, with little chocolate sugarplums as compliments. Bring hot, fresh breads baked to perfection with your most savory dips. And dredge up enough frosted moonberry wine to get an army drunk! I want it prepared in exactly four hours time!"

The king's high, faraway look did not stop his cook from quickly writing down everything his master bade of him and jumping toward the kitchens when Jareth lowered his glance even slightly. Everyone knew that His Majesty was on edge and that today was _not_ the day to cross on his ill-tempered side, a lesson Jareth knew should be remembered for all days. Everyone in his kingdom knew now that fealty, obedience and loyalty were small tokens to pay for the great honor Jareth brought to the kingdom. His rule brought peace and prosperity to the land, after all.

As the buzz around the room dimmed as the servents went about their tasks preparing for the impromptu feast, Jareth lowered himself onto his throne to think. He resigned that he would just have to wait patiently for the boy to attempt to get to the castle. There would be no gloating, no bullying, no teasing of Toby to get him to give up. As he watched his servants trudge about, Jareth was at least pleased that he had that pastime to keep him entertained. had to be content: there were four hours left to go of this madness!

* * *

_Author's Note_ - I won't apologize for this chapter being so untimely. Instead, I will try to get this thing finished as soon as possible. Leave your hate and your love in the reviews!

_Edited for consistency._


	14. fourteen: from Hoggle

Hoggle had teleported back to the Underground faster than he had ever done anything in his life. No sooner had he landed did he tumble head over heels into the sands on the outskirt of the Labyrinth. Despite the pain of his fall, he felt bile rise in his throat and without a chance to bend over, he wretched vomit in a horizontal spew. Hoggle raised a hand to wipe his mouth, but the hand he raised was still covered in Sarah's blood.

A scream died in Hoggle's throat as he vomited again, this time in a sand dune.

He couldn't get the events of the evening out of his mind: Sarah, incoherent, wandering. Then, Sarah bleeding _everywhere_. The sight of all that blood was too much for Hoggle to handle. What was going on? Her mumbling had worried him, but her wandering had frightened him. It had taken all he could muster to get her to not bump into the walls, and with his energy spent his effort to warn her of the king's plot failed.

Hoggle wiped his mouth with his clean hand. He had failed. Now Sarah and Toby and her wee baby were all in danger of becoming subjected to the perverted whim of Jareth. And it was all Hoggle's fault! He had been the one tasked to saving Sarah from king, and now… now there was no telling what was going to happen.

Oh! That damned fox should have given him better information! No one said that Sarah was going to be hurt before he even got there! If only he had more magic, he might have been able to heal Sarah so he could help her understand what was going on. How could she not remember, how could she have forgotten? What had happened to her to cause her to start bleeding like that?

Hoggle grimaced at the memory as he leaned over a nearby pond to clean his hands and face. The murky brown water tinged red, and as Hoggle lifted his hands up, little bright red drops fell onto the surface. He plunged his hands in again thrashed the water around, trying to wash all the blood away. Sarah's blood… it was literally on his hands now.

"Damn you Jareth!" he cursed loudly, hitting the water with all his might.

The dwarf fell to his knees in front of the water, trying to prevent tears from forming. Why? Why did it have to be this way? What had Sarah ever done to deserve any of this? Why did it have to be _him_ that went to her? Oh! Curse his wretched life! Hoggle would have rather stayed in the Oubliette than seen Sarah like she was, to have any memory of her like… _that_. Damn Didymus, damn Jareth, damn everyone!

Hoggle rose slowly, his hands and face wet from their bath. His eyes were hot and dry, and he turned his head slowly, surveying the area. What would he do now? He was an escaped prisoner, and all that was left for him was death. The king knew Hoggle wasn't afraid of nothing anymore, so he wouldn't see it any other way… the king. Jareth! Hoggle slowly turned his gaze until it was fixed on the castle beyond the Goblin City. He would set this matter straight once and for all, and Jareth would at least get a piece of Hoggle's mind before he was shuffled off.

His resolve was slow, but when he set upon it, Hoggle would be steadfast and stony. It was with this determination that Hoggle rolled up his sleeve cuffs to hide the blood stains and set off toward the heart of the Goblin City. He would use every shortcut and trick in the book to circumvent Jareth's eye until the king had no choice but to listen. One way or another, the games would stop that day once and for all.

With a final heave of his trousers and an alley oop for good measure, Hoggle headed full steam at the Labyrinth. A deft push of magic at the wall sent the stones flying left and right to jump out of Hoggle's way. He charged through several walls this way, not even breaking a sweat. The growl of the Labyrinth closing several walls in on itself reminded the dwarf that he was on Jareth's turf now, and he would have to be careful. Therefore, Hoggle paused after he broke through the last stone wall into the hedgerows to consider his options. Above or below ground?

After a few moments of deliberation, Hoggle decided to risk being squashed by the Cleaners and go straight underground. Besides, there was always a chance he could outrun the Cleaners, same as he did last time. Without a word, Hoggle shifted the cobbles in the middle of the Labyrinth's branch; underneath were a dark hole and the top of a ladder. No sound escaped from the blackness, and cold fingers of air whispered up into the heat of the long Underground afternoon.

"This is a fine time to be brave," Hoggle whispered to himself as he peered down the ladder. After a gulp, he grabbed the hand rails and stepped down into the darkness, pulling the stones back over his head so that there was no light at all. It meant he had to traverse the whole tunnel system blindly.

Time passed in circles in Hoggle's mind as he lowered himself down into the tunnels. One step, one rung at a time his feet and hands moved, until after what felt like hours, Hoggle's feet touched solid ground. His knees were weak and wobbly from the climb, so for a few moments he caught his breath and listened to the room around him. The sound of cave filled Hoggle's hairy ears; dripping water, running water in the distance, and the long echo only a cavernous system provides. And silence. In between the sounds of water, it was dead.

With his ears full of the roaring quiet, Hoggle the dwarf stood and turned his steps in the direction of the castle once more. With spirit, Hoggle walked the crisscrossed tunnels he was so familiar with. The tunnels would take him to the edge of the Labyrinth, where he'd emerge at the edge of the forest. Then, he would use the cloak of the forest as far as the junk, where he'd easily evade the king. The Goblin City was an issue, but the way through was straightforward if you could bypass the guards.

That would be an issue, Hoggle thought as his feet kicked up a little faster. He hadn't thought about the guards. It was a detail that his old mind just hadn't had time to get to yet. To be fair, the forefront of Hoggle's mind was filled with what Jareth's fury would encompass. The king was renowned for his cruelty, and Hoggle knew that none would be spared on an escaped prisoner, let alone someone who had disobeyed a direct order from their king. It was treason.

The old dwarf's heart pounded wildly in his chest at the concept of losing his life, or perhaps it was how quickly his feet were flying through the cave. His life, pah. What was it even worth? He had lived most of his life serving under Jareth, doing all the things his majesty had commanded of him. Jareth was the kind of king who had a way of getting everything he wanted, even if it was despicable. Hoggle justified the horrible things he had done with his cowardice and fear and loved none, except Sarah. She was the only person in his whole life who had ever truly been his friend.

Sarah had given his old, worn out life purpose again. She had given him something to care about, something to look forward to, and something to leave behind. She helped him realize the reason for being good and kind, and made him to see how horrible he had been. He had done so much for her, in an attempt to protect her from Jareth and the things she meant to him.

"Damn Jareth!" Hoggle cursed to himself. To Jareth Sarah had only ever been a plaything, and it wasn't right! In all the years Hoggle had known Jareth as his lord and master, Jareth had never not played with humans. Sarah was no different to the king, but she was Hoggle's friend!

These thoughts drove the dwarf through the tunnels in less than an hour. The light from the forest that peeped through roots and stone was green, and it beckoned Hoggle through the last few meters of the cave. When he emerged, the sunlight bathed his eyes in whiteness and he had to rest to regain his vision. His feet appreciated the load off, too.

Within minutes, Hoggle was off again, not wanting to waste a single second. It was only a matter of time before Jareth realized he was missing, and even a shorter amount of time before he was found. Hoggle wanted what little upper hand he could get. Branches snapped under his surprisingly swift feet as he progressed through the thicket in a beeline. Logs occasionally got in his way, but for the most part Hoggle found himself making very good time.

In fact, the frantic pace of his journey had forced a sort of peripheral blinder on the dwarf. He lost sight of pretty much everything that wasn't in the way of him and the king. Perhaps that is how he got turned around in the densest part of the forest. Without the nose of Didymus, finding the right way would require Hoggle to stop and wriggle his way up a tree to get a perspective on the land. Ugh, he hated heights!

First, Hoggle had to find a good tree to climb. All the trees around him had branches much too high off the ground, and no matter how he jumped he couldn't reach the closest one. The search turned the dwarf's face upward for quite some time as he stumbled through the trees, quite lost. He was looking up at the branches of some short trees on the edge of a small clearing at the roots of a very massive and old oak when he heard the soft, far away sound of a boy talking.

The lapse of Hoggle's defenses frightened him immediately into hiding behind a tree. Luckily, he hadn't stepped into the clearing, so there was a chance he hadn't been seen. A keen ear turned toward the ruckus and Hoggle bid his heart beat more silently so he could hear what was going on. The voice was getting closer and clearer.

"…the right direction. We've been in this forest for two hours! I am pretty sure we're lost."

There was only one voice, so Hoggle had only to assume there was one person. At least, he hoped it was a person and not some terrible witch that projected boy's voices in the middle of the forest. Such things were known to happen in the Labyrinth, after all; it was a strange place.

"Steve, I think I know what to do."

Hoggle peeped around the trunk of the tree and looked into the clearing he had almost foolishly stepped into. In it, there was a tall, blond boy wearing a faded red shirt and jeans, and a bright yellow something on his shoulder. It was something Hoggle had never seen before, which was curious. Whatever the something was, it seemed like it was alive, though the eyes were black and blank. That must've been Steve. So who was this boy?

The boy moved toward him and Hoggle ducked back behind the tree, unsure of what to do. Obviously this was another one of the king's games: Labyrinth runners were always so easy to spot. On the one hand, he didn't want to delay his trip to the castle, but on the other hand, the boy seemed like he might be on his way out of the forest. Oh, what would Sarah do?

Sarah would have approached the boy, asked him if he would help. She would have comforted him about his troubles and commiserated, and befriended him. Then she would have followed him through the forest, both to ensure his safety and to relieve her own suffering. But Hoggle didn't think of these things like Sarah did, try as he might.

He watched as the tall boy easily reached the lowest branches of the tall oak and lifted himself up. Steve the yellow thing jumped up onto the branch to follow the boy, and up shimmied the boy. It was a relief to Hoggle to know he wasn't the only person who thought of climbing in order to solve his problems. Wait! Someone else climbed the tree!

The boy's objective was plain, and Hoggle didn't have to think hard to know he would follow the boy out of the forest. The puzzle that flummoxed his brain, though, was the sudden opportunity he had. Oh, the level of pain he wished to illicit to Jareth! What cruelty would befall the king when the boy arrived at the castle? But then again, how far did Hoggle push his luck? He had no idea what this boy was after, nor did he know what extra punishments he might receive. Taking the boy to the castle created the risk of being seen by the Goblin King, which would defeat the purpose of all his stealth. But then again…

Having made up his mind finally, Hoggle watched the boy from the safety of his hiding spot until the boy reached the top of the tree, then gingerly stepped out into the clearing and looked up.


	15. fifteen: from Toby

Toby was lost in the deepest part of the forest.

However, Toby was a bright boy, and no level of darkness could cloud his judgment. As he had progressed further into the forest it became more evident that he was getting lost. He picked his way through the forest for an hour trying to find his way, doing his best to stay in the direction he thought the castle was. Under the pressure of his time limit he pushed himself, which perhaps was how he found himself wandering aimlessly for between the roots and bramble.

Steve was no help at all in the woods. The first time Toby had expressed his distress over being lost, Steve simply stared and blinked. There was nothing from him, no purring, no happiness or sadness or nausea. Steve panted and faked a yawn, but the little devil had actually made the conscious decision not to help. After a few minutes of hiking, the Pikachu had curled up around Toby's neck and had fallen asleep. Toby, innocently unaware of Steve's intended malice, couldn't hold the weariness against his tiny friend and thought nothing of the nap. It had been a very, very long day after all, and there was still a very long way to go.

After wandering lost for an entire hour, and with the clock ticking down, Toby wearily shook Steve awake on his shoulder. The Pikachu shook and purred as it stretched lazily, rubbing its face on the back of Toby's head and sending waves of happiness straight into the boy's brain. Toby giggled a little, forgetting his own weariness, and picked Steve up from his shoulder. Steve nearly vibrated with all his purring and happiness, and Toby smiled. His friendship with Steve was odd, but so far it was better than nothing!

A deep yawn cracked across the tiny yellow and black face, and with a gentle leap Steve jumped nimbly down to follow behind Toby's feet, content to pretend to sniff at the ground. In actuality, Steve was hungrily reading Toby's thoughts, taking its time to learn the most about its victim. Steve the Calyces could not just simply set a trap; for the maximum effect, it had to also bait it.

Ahead of Steve, Toby kept pushing through the trees blindly trying to make his way. However, seeing Steve yawn made him realize how tired he really was, and as he thought about his weariness he slowed. He knew he needed to stop, and he also knew he had to try and get his bearings, or he would run out of time.

"There's a clearing up ahead that should give us a good place to rest," he said to Steve, "but I don't think we're going in the right direction. We've been in this forest for two hours! I am pretty sure we're lost."

They entered the quiet clearing, and Toby came to a stop to let his feet rest. He was hot, and tired, and wanted a drink of water but knew he wouldn't get it. His feet were sore, his hands scabbing and still throbbing from his jaunt over the wall at the beginning of his adventure. The last thing he wanted to do was _more_ work, but he knew he had no one but himself to rely on.

Steve jumped up to Toby's shoulder in response to the boy stopping, and through his feet sent little purring waves of joy. Empty eyes peered up into the dense canopy trees surrounding, then looked back down at Toby, unseeing. The reaction was the most Steve gave Toby, and Toby sighed to himself. Well, at least Pikachu Steve didn't bite.

"Steve, I think I know what to do." Toby referred to a plan he had been hatching for the last few minutes: climbing a tree and getting a look around. To his unending luck, there was a tall tree in front of Toby with branches low enough that he could reach, and in a flash Toby created a climbing plan in his mind.

Resigned to what he needed to do, the tall boy dusted his hands off and simply started climbing. It was no different than climbing any other tree; there was sap on the trunk and little bugs under the leaves. And the higher and higher he climbed the easier and easier it was to see the lay of the land. Steve jumped off his shoulder and climbed with him, easily hopping from branch to branch above Toby's head. As he neared the top, though, the branches thinned and he had to stop for fear of the branches not supporting his weight. When he had a comfortable perch and an arm wrapped around the trunk, Toby let his gaze soak in the bird-eye view he gave himself.

The Labyrinth, stretched out in front of him from the edge of the forest into the dusty distance, was dizzyingly beautiful from this perspective.

However, the appreciation of the splendor was brief as Toby turned his head in search of his objective, the castle. It was there, large and eating up the near horizon, in the direction he had just come from! Of all the terrible ways to get mixed up in a forest, wandering away from your destination while you were so close was one of the most terrible. The boy would have kicked himself if he hadn't been so high up in a tree.

Sighing with frustration Toby closed his eyes and let the cool breeze run though his hair for a minute. He was so close now; he knew he would make it to the castle very soon. Then he could get Cora and be back to reality.

Ha! Reality.

The sad fact was Toby's reality would never be the same. Not after everything he had learned and experienced! It was amazing and horrifying all at once, to know that a whole world existed somewhere besides his own. No wonder Mom and Dad had thought Sarah was crazy! It was a preposterous notion, the Labyrinth, but you had to experience it to really believe in it.

Toby's heart fell as he thought of his family, especially Sarah. He understood now the drive she had tried to explain in her journal; she had made a terrible mistake and she was the only one who could resolve it. He had made the same terrible mistake, and as he opened his eyes and stared at the castle in the distance, he felt the same drive in his heart. Only to Toby, this drive was stronger. Toby cared about Cora was missing, and what Sarah would think of him. Back then, his sister had only cared that Toby was missing; she didn't think about anything else.

"Come on Steve," Toby said quietly to his yellow companion sitting at the very top of the tree. "I know what direction we need to take now."

With a deep breath of the fresh air, Toby turned his focus to getting out of the tree and headed in the direction of the Labyrinth. Branch by branch he lowered himself, glad that the trip down was easier than the trip up, but loathing the constant stare at the drop to the ground, which he couldn't see due to the height of the tree and the forest in the way. Steve followed the boy down with the same grace he had followed Toby up.

Just as he had cleared enough branches to actually see the ground, a gruff voice from below with an unseen speaker froze him in his tracks. "Hey, you! Boy! Which way is it to the castle?"

Toby's voice froze in fear for a moment. Besides the Goblin King and himself, he hadn't heard anyone utter anything in hours and hours. It didn't sound like the king, but Sarah had said that the king was very good at disguising himself. What if this was a trick to get him to reveal something he shouldn't? Best to approach the situation with caution, he decided.

"Who wants to know?" The question was as much caution the frightened Toby could muster as he tried not to fall out of the tree.

"What's it to ya? Where's the castle?" The voice sounded old and scratchy, but _whoever-he-was_could have easily been the king throwing his voice.

"The castle? What castle?" The ignoramus delay was a classic Pokémon strategy, one Toby used often. He kept climbing, even if it was very slowly. He wanted to see exactly who was talking to him, so he turned his head to get a better glimpse of the ground. He could make out the wrinkled outline of an old man, but the details were still too small. He kept going until he was only meters away from the ground and could finally move to a position to dismount and see the voice's face.

"Oh! Don't you even try and play that with me!" The voice was coming from a very weathered, very little old man. His nose was two sizes too big for his face, and his hair was ratty and thin under an ancient leather hat. If Toby hadn't been so scared it was the king coming to tell him he'd lost time, he would have laughed.

"I don't know what you mean!" Toby was all innocence as he tried to disentangle himself from the tree enough to get down.

"Pah." The old man looked Toby straight in the eye as Toby's feet hit the ground with a solid _thud_, as if to challenge him_._Toby simply stared back, trying to assess the old man. Could this really be Jareth in disguise?

"Who are you?" Toby asked again, this time stepping toward the man. Much to his surprise, the man stepped back.

"N-no need to be gettin' so close!" The man shrieked this in a troubled tone, as though he were the one afraid; tiny hands flew up to protect himself. "I ain't done nuthin' to ya!"

Toby stopped and stared again, trying to peer into the beady old eyes. Who was this? Why did he want to know where the castle was? Was it the King?

"Well, I guess if you don't want to tell me, there's no reason for me to tell you anything," Toby said matter-of-factly as he ran a hand through his hair. "I see no reason why I should tell you anything when you've not been kind enough to answer kinder questions than your own!"

At this, the old man's gaze fell and he seemed hurt by Toby's words. Despite Toby's nature to be compassionate, he held fast to his stance. The truth was unkind, but there was no reason to trust this man! He still didn't know if it was the Goblin King or not, and the more the shriveled man refused to answer, the surer Toby was that he must be the King. After a few moments more, Toby frowned and stood taller.

"Whatever." He didn't wave or give another glance to the man, but stepped to the side and walked past him.

"Wait!"

There was desperation in the old voice, and it caused Toby pause. He turned around, silent and expectant, crossing his arms in front of his chest defiantly. Steve jumped off Toby's shoulder and lurked behind the boy's feet, attempting to be unassuming. Steve was now hearing two trains of thoughts, and one of them interfered with his plans. Tiny heckles raised out of sight.

"You've got five seconds," Toby warned sternly, ignoring Steve's actions. "Who are you?"

The little man took a deep breath and slowly drew himself up. He looked up with a fire in his eyes and stated, "Hoggle. I am Hoggle."

Toby met Hoggle's stare for about three seconds before he realized that the name was familiar. It was the name of Sarah's friend from the Labyrinth! Toby wanted to let his demeanor melt away, but the King's use of trickery made him wary. What if the King knew about Hoggle and was using it as a disguise?

"Are you really?"

"What? Uh, of course! Who would go about lyin' about who they are?"

"The king."

At this, Hoggle got plainly upset. He rushed forward to Toby, his finger on his lips. At the same time, he angrily whispered, "Shhh! What do ya think you're about? You don't want him to hear us, do ya?"

Toby's arms dropped at this admonishment and his mouth hung open slightly. Well, he hadn't considered that perhaps this _wasn't_ the king. For a moment the heavy silence of the forest crept over them, with the exception of Steve rustling the grass as he moved about.

"He can do that?" Toby tried to let his natural inquisitiveness break through the awkward silence.

"He can do anything," Hoggle said quietly and bitterly. He spat on the ground disrespectfully and loudly. The noise scared Steve up Toby's pant leg, where he clung there peering at Hoggle from behind a thigh. Like lightening, Steve decided he really hated this Hoggle character.

"I didn't realize he could hear everything," Toby whispered, as though it would matter. And what did everything encompass? What was really anything spoken out loud?

Hoggle rolled his eyes slightly and chuffed in exasperation. Who did this kid think he was? "Yes!" Then, softer, "Now, heh-heh, tell me where the castle is."

Toby's focus snapped back to Hoggle at the mention of the castle. "Why do you want to go, Hoggle?" Saying the dwarf's – was that what he was? – name out loud felt strange on his tongue having read it so many times in Sarah's journals. Should he mention Sarah and Cora? Would it change how Hoggle was reacting?

"Uh," Hoggle gulped and looked at the grass in the clearing. The man blushed deeply from underneath his tough skin. "It's personal business."

At this, Steve knew of Hoggle's treachery to the king, and it infuriated the Calyces. No one betrayed the Goblin King, not even the Calyces. Hackles raised as Steve listened deeply to Hoggle's mind; how dare that dwarf? The Pikachu quickly clawed its up Toby's back as he was about to draw breath to speak.

"Ow!" Toby seethed; until now Steve had never clawed on his way to his shoulder perch.

For the first time in the visit, the yellow and black creature paid notice to Hoggle. Tiny dark eyes, empty and unfeeling, peered down into Hoggle's watery eyes and a wave of angry emotion flowed like electricity down Hoggle's spine. Steve ran back and forth over Toby's shoulders, baring the glistening teeth his avatar possessed, purring madly and pulsating negativity at the dwarf. Toby watched Hoggle, wondering what was going on with Steve.

"Wh- what is that thing?" Hoggle choked between the small fits of uncontrollable anger and rage. The curiously selective emotions passed over Toby, making him unaware of the feelings Hoggle was going through.

"Steve," Toby said, picking up the Pikachu from his shoulder. The creature was puffing and still kicking its legs. "Steve! Stop it!" Toby's voice boomed in the quiet little clearing.

He shook the creature lightly and looked into its face to stare down the kicking beast. For a moment Steve's eyes seemed to narrow, but it blew away as though it were a shadow. The kicking slowed to a stop but Steve didn't stop purring. Toby put Steve in one arm and scratched gently behind his companion's ears and a creeping wave of happiness spread over both Toby and Hoggle. If Steve had had actual emotions, he might have looked dejected.

"Hoggle, this is Steve. I'm sorry about that… I don't think he likes new people." Steve had relaxed in Toby's arm and Toby propped him up almost like a ragdoll. "I think he's a Pikachu, but I'm not sure. He looks like a Pikachu, anyway."

"A pika-huh?" Hoggle stared bug eyed at the creature, unsure of what had just happened.

"Pikachu. It's a Pokémon. Anyway," Toby moved on as if the scene were nothing. "Sorry if he hurt you, that's just how he communicates. Maybe he was… barking at you. It would just be totally like Steve to bark." The lonely boy was glad to _finally_ be talking to someone and he was practically giddy for the company. However, he kept his composure as he patted Steve on the head. What _had_ Steve been thinking?

"I don't want to be barked at," Hoggle stiffly replied, eyeing Steve warily. "I want to go to the castle. Now, are ya goin' to point me in the right direction?"

"Oh! Right!"

Steve's interruption had made him totally lose track of his thoughts. What had he been thinking about before? Hoggle, of course – and Sarah. Oh! He remembered suddenly; he had wondered if he should tell Hoggle what was going on and ask for his help. Toby had hoped that Hoggle would know the way to the castle himself, having been there before, but apparently even he could get lost… So what kind of real help would he be?

When Sarah had first met him, he had tried to lead her back to the beginning of the Labyrinth. Would Hoggle be any more sympathetic if he knew Toby was Sarah's brother? Sarah hadn't talked to him in years, was he even the same person dwarf? Was Hoggle the sort of dwarf who would be kind about losing Sarah as a friend? In a cautious heartbeat, Toby decided against telling Hoggle who he really was just in case Hoggle wasn't the person his sister thought he was. Still… his mind rolled the situation around. How could he still get Hoggle to help him?

"Well?" Hoggle crossed his arms and started tapping his foot.

"Fine! Alright! I will tell you on one condition," Toby said simply. "You have to let me come with you. I am… also on 'personal business' and need to go to the castle."

It was Hoggle's turn to think. Had he any idea who the boy was, he might have done things differently, but he was content not even knowing the boy's name. He had already stayed in the same place too long, so he nodded. "Whatever you want. Let's just get going." He waved his hands at Toby and started walking.

Toby was instantly delighted, and in a heartbeat he turned back around and started walking again. "It's that way." He pointed in the direction of the castle, the direction he was walking in.

"Finally!" Hoggle almost cackled with glee. Little legs started moving faster to keep up with Toby.

"I'm Tobias, by the way, but you can call me Bias," Toby fibbed. Well, he didn't _technically_ lie about his name: he really was named Tobias. Bias was the name he used when he played Pokémon, though.

"Well, uh, hello." Hoggle didn't want to talk, he wanted to get to the castle before Jareth found him, but Toby didn't know that.

"So, you're a dwarf right?" Toby was slightly behind Hoggle's pace now as he picked his way through the underbrush. Steve was in between them, keeping a distant pace away from Hoggle.

"Yes. Why do you care?" Hoggle was annoyed that the boy was still talking and it showed in his voice.

"Oh, I'm just curious," Toby explained sheepishly. He took a breath to say something, but Hoggle turned around and shot Toby a death stare, stopping him in his tracks.

"You better be quiet, Bias. _He's_ listening."

The sudden unwavering look in the dwarf's eyes crippled Toby's voice in his throat and he fell silent. He let Hoggle lead the way. The pace was fast for Hoggle, but moderate for Toby, and since the ground was level he found he could think about things. He realized with a touch of remorse that he had lost his position of power with Hoggle by telling him where the castle was.

Would telling him about Sarah change that? Toby's considerations were overshadowed by doubt as to Hoggle's true nature, given what he said and how he said it. He didn't want to risk making the dwarf angry at him; he hated to admit it to himself but he needed his help. So, Toby vowed then to not tell Hoggle who he really was so he would help him get to the castle. The castle. Toby turned his thoughts to Cora and what he needed to do to get her back. It was the whole reason he was here, after all.

The odd trio travelled silently for a time through the forest, until the trees thinned out and the brambles gave way to a sloping hill leading to a valley. Below them, huge mountains of trash rose up, with each piece of garbage laying there a testament to the past. Beyond that was the Goblin City, and just past the city the Castle rose up to impressive heights.

"Wow!" The exclamation escaped as a whisper from Toby's lips as the vision sank in. Toby stopped at the edge of the forest, leaning sidelong on a tree for rest, and Steve climbed up to rest on his shoulder. The two were a pair as they drank in the faintly glowing sight of the city and the castle while the evening breeze washed over them.

As his watery brown eyes took in the city in the distance and the castle in the farther distance, Toby's ears strained to hear something besides the mumbling of Hoggle beside him. He was disappointingly met with an eerie silence. The whole walk they had heard neither a bird nor any such wild thing save their own breath and the sound of their feet. The chill of the wood, plus the haunting stillness of the Labyrinth, made Toby really wonder what was going on. What the hell was going on? Toby shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Alright, let's go!" Hoggle's voice was gruff and angry. Why was Bias always dawdling? "The castle is a lot farther away than it looks." Hoggle grumbled to himself as he started picking his way down the hill. He should have never agreed to let the boy follow him; he should have simply followed the boy instead. Oh well… it was too late to change his mind now.

Toby took off after Hoggle, taking great care not to end up flying head over heels with a misstep. The hill wasn't steep, but every now and again Toby felt like he might tip forward enough to get a good bounce going should he tumble. However, on every occasion he lurched, Steve's claws gripped at the red shirt Toby wore, causing Toby to slow down each time.

This was safe, but slow; Hoggle had already dusted himself off a bit and started off walking again before Toby reached a little over halfway to the bottom. The loss of his walking partner sent Toby rushing, and for a moment in time he seemed to just be a boy, racing down a hill. Hoggle was starting to walk away, so Toby gave a burst of speed and dashed to the bottom of the hill in only a few moments.

"Wait!" The breathy call to Hoggle didn't stop the dwarf. Toby was sprinting now to catch up. "Ho-ggle!" The emphasis was childish but Toby didn't care. Why wouldn't Hoggle wait for him?

Suddenly, Toby was surrounded by the mountains of garbage, and he was lost in the gigantic landscape of it all. He had seen the piles of trash from the top of the hill, and hadn't thought of how large it was. Now that he was there, Toby felt very small, and the monstrosity of it all frightened him, as it should have. Here, there were dangers untold lurking in every empty tin can and beyond every pile of old appliances. The setting sun in the horizon did nothing to help, and rather added a seething chill to the air.

As he approached Hoggle, Toby suddenly thought that this was what probably the regular world looked like to Hoggle.

Hoggle _had_ waited for Toby, but really he had been trying to lose him. Damn that Bias! The dwarf had stopped and turned at the edge of the trash, looking at the running boy with disinterest in his eyes. As Toby neared him, Hoggle turned around without speaking and started picking his way through the debris. Toby's longer stride covered the gap in distance quickly, and he easily caught up with Hoggle.

"What _is_ this place?" Try as he might, Toby couldn't help but ask questions. For some reason he didn't think of it ask talking. "There's just _so much_ garbage!" The amazement and wonder could not be held out of his voice.

"Eh," Hoggle grunted. Why was he answering this kid? "This is the lingering testament of humanity's impact on the underground. _Junk_." The last word was spat out with a hint of bitterness.

"How did it all get here?"

Toby was right behind Hoggle when the dwarf stopped abruptly and turned around to look at him again. The boy's legs nearly bumped him in the nose.

"Do you _really_ want to know, Bias? Are you _really sure_?" For a flash Hoggle's eyes were piercing and bright as his voice spiked in earnest, but the remembered kindness was so stony only a king could recognize.

The boy nodded fiercely, totally unaware of the dwarf's emotions.

"Well…" Hoggle paused. "Alright then." He turned around and started making his way this way and that around piles and piles of old women's shoes. "The goblins steal it all. They have been stealing things from the humans for as long as I can remember… and when they get tired of it, it all ends up here."

"That's incredible!" The amazement was fresh. "Think of the things you could find in here!"

Hoggle grunted and shook his head. "What does it matter? No one cares."

"But… I do." The admission was vaguely strange for Toby. His mind whirled with the scientific questions about the past. He stopped walking to look about, but felt something fall on his foot. He bent over to look down, and Steve hopped off his shoulder and started wandering toward Hoggle.

Toby noticed an old, grubby stuffed bear with a missing eye that had slumped over his foot, probably when he stopped to gaze around. He gingerly picked the bear up and dusted it off lightly, looking it over. The bear bore a somber expression with the remaining eye, blankly recalling distant memories in what Sarah had described to him once as _déjà vu_. His head swam with the familiarity of such a strange sight and he felt woozy, but he dropped the dirty bear the dizziness vanished. How bizarre that was! Anyway, his eyes had too much to see to dwell on the matter as he soaked in the complexity of the massive heap.

The amazement was not one meant to be lingered in. The last rays of sun disappeared as a burst of night wind soared over the piles and through the valleys between the heaps, blowing bits of paper and dead leaves into small dust devils. Goose bumps chased a chill down Toby's spine and in a snap his mind refocused on his task of rescuing Cora. What was he thinking, asking questions! How could he have given into his curiosity so easily? He thought about how much time he had left and did some math in his head, tallying up the time he felt he had already spent. He figured he had about an hour left. The shiver at this realization reversed itself up his spine and Toby shuddered in his thin shirt.

"Let's get out of here," Toby said very suddenly. The hushed focus in his voice caused the dwarf to raise his eyebrows.

"Whatever you say, Bias." Hoggle shrugged, turning back around to continue on the path to the castle.

Toby was very quiet after their stop to talk about the garbage. He felt strange about the experience and the more he tried not to dwell on it the more he thought about it. He supposed that perhaps that was part of what the Labyrinth was. Sarah had described feeling quite strange during her trip on multiple occasions. Why should his experience also include strange feelings? He concluded that it also included worrying about meeting the deadline provided by the king.

In this silence Toby and Steve followed Hoggle for grueling half an hour through the winding garbage toward the gate at the beginning of the Goblin City. Toby let his eyes guiltily wander up and down the items around Hoggle's feet as they walked, but he tried to keep his mind on the newborn baby he was trying to save from certain doom and the fact that he had less than an hour to do it. His innate twelve year old boyish self was so never pressured in his whole life. Responsibility! Pah! He resisted the urge to kick a can.

Just as they were in sight of the wall, Hoggle stopped and pulled Toby by the collar behind a heap of garbage. He put a weathered finger to his lips and Toby nodded, understanding the need to be quiet.

"Last few times I came through there were no guards," Hoggle whispered dryly. He licked his cracked lips. "But who knows what's in store this time."

Toby nodded. Right, prepare for the unexpected, and only a half an hour to accomplish his goal. He couldn't fail; he had to succeed for Sarah. With a push of bravery, Toby glanced over the wall. When he saw no one, and heard no one, he raised an eye brow at Hoggle and shrugged.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," Toby whispered. He rose courageously and darted to the gate, and peeked inside. He saw nothing, and waved Hoggle over. The dwarf waddled over quickly.

"I don't see anyone," Toby reported in a hushed voice. "We'd better hurry; I'm running out of time!"

"So am I," lamented Hoggle. The sad cloud that passed over his face held no meaning for Toby, and the boy didn't care what it meant. Hoggle had no intention of sharing, either, and the sadness was forgotten quickly.

"Help me with this," Toby said as he grabbed the edge of the heavy door. Hoggle pushed with all his might and together they both opened the door.

One by one they snuck into the Goblin city, clinging to the shadows as best as a lanky boy with a pocket monster on his shoulder and fat dwarf could. Toby couldn't tell from his position where the entrance to the castle was, and at this he turned to Hoggle with a desperate look.

"Ok, now you have to help me get to the castle… how do you get through the streets?" Toby's soft voice pleaded with Hoggle. "We're so close!"

Hoggle pressed his finger to his lips again. He motioned forward, and slowly the pair snuck their way through the city. The pair passed shuttered houses and deserted fruit stands. Occasionally, a downy chicken feather would float past in the night air, but the wind was the only thing that really stirred. Minute after minute ticked away and Toby felt the panic in him rise as they neared the castle. He wasn't sure he was going to make it!

What would happen then? As the distress built in him, he found himself imagining all kinds of scenarios. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Sarah's baby forever! What would become of her if he failed? How would Sarah ever forgive him? This thought caused Toby the most pain, and he with mild success he pushed it out of his head.

Hoggle had stopped, and Toby tried to focus on what was going on. In front of them was a tall terrace that melted into the giant gates of the castle. Toby brightened at the sight, although caution made him wary. Hoggle crept toward the door, looking around him as though to expect an ambush. None was to be had, however, and Hoggle waved for Toby to follow him up the slope and steps. Steve jumped off of Toby's shoulder and ran toward the door as the pair got themselves in position to open the door.

Getting the castle door open took all their strength, and when they gave a mighty heave, the giant doors creaking hinges sounded throughout the castle. No doubt the sound alerted the whole kingdom that they had just walked into the castle. That meant it was only a matter of time before Jareth would send goblins raining down upon them, and the thought of it sent Hoggle into a panic.

Hoggle froze as the sound reverberated throughout the vast emptiness of the castle. He realized that _now_was his time to face the king and give him what for, no matter what. He bristled at the concept, wondering what would actually happen. It didn't really matter; it wouldn't do the boy any good to watch him die at the hands of the king, who was no doubt involved in this poor boy's life somehow. Still, his resolve was shaky in the face of the real possibility that he was at the end of his life.

"What's wrong Hoggle?" Toby whispered. He could see the symptoms but couldn't determine the cause.

"Bias, I… we… we have to separate now." Hoggle's face was twisted into a pained look. His breath was ragged from the work on the door still. "You're at the castle, so, now you'll do just fine." The dwarf waved a hand in frustration at Toby, who was still gawking at him, to get. "Just keep going! The king will win if you give up now."

The bit of advice was all the kindness Hoggle could manage. He turned and quickly went off in one branch of the castle's entry hall, cussing to himself under his breath and kicking up his little legs as fast as he could go before he turned around and ran the other way. Toby made a motion to stop Hoggle, but he withdrew as he watched the dwarf practically run out of sight.

Great! Now what was he going to do? How was he supposed to win the bet with the King? The boy turned around in the empty, silent hall, unsure of what was next. He took a deep but shaky breath and did his best to steel his determination, then turned to his remaining companion, who scrambled up from the entryway of the castle to climb Toby's shoulder.

"Steve, looks like it's just you and me again," he whispered. "We've got about ten minutes; let's go find Cora."

Steve bounced around on Toby's shoulder and began purring in response, pushing his whiskered face against Toby like a cat. A wave of happiness reassured Toby that his friend was at least still with him, and as the boy pushed the worry from his mind, Steve rejoiced. At long last, the final leg of the Calyces' great, treacherous plan could spring into action! A purr almost audible rose from the Pikachu as he envisioned the naïve boy's reaction.

"Which way do you think Steve?" Toby asked as the pair came to their first split in the hall. He moved to go right and was met with a wave of nausea one so strong that he wondered how he could have forgotten Steve's power so easily. He moved left and an encompassing, near-orgasmic wave enveloped him. Having trusted Steve thus far, Toby kept pressing forward into the left branch.

Unaware of Steve's malicious intentions, Toby at least had the sense to try and keep himself hidden as he snuck quickly from corridor to corridor, checking the rooms as he passed for Cora or the king. The rooms were disenchantingly empty, but had signs of recent occupation like smoking hearths and chairs pushed away from tables.

It was in the corner of one of these rooms that Toby spied a white linen shirt and black sable cloak lying crumpled in a pile. The richness of the cloak made Toby look down at himself for a moment, and an impulsive passion overtook him wear the cloak. He hastily took off his pathetic red shirt for the clean white one, and found that it was oddly just the right size as he slipped his arms through it. However, when he put the cloak on he about drowned in the silky hood, and he put the comfortable fit of the shirt out of his mind as coincidence as he left the room with Steve riding comfortably on the new cloak

The curse of silence seemed to hang about the whole Goblin Kingdom, because not a breath stirred in the castle. The sable made no noise as Toby moved, and he was glad for that as he seemed to rush about as his time wore down. He exhaled a heavy breath and saw it condense before his eyes into a cloud of smoke. When had it gotten so cold? The fur pressed against the exposed skin on the back of his neck and though the V of the shirt and he was glad for the soft warmth as he poked his head in and out of another empty room.

"Where is Cora?" Toby's whispered frustration sounded like a shout in the emptiness. Steve merely bounced up and down on Toby's shoulder.

Toby knew he only had a few minutes left, and despair started to wash over him. He stopped checking every room and just started running, straining his ears to hear the sound of Cora crying. She had cried earlier, why wasn't she crying now? Panic crept into his heart – what if Jareth had done something to her already? He couldn't bear where his thoughts were going so he focused on listening to the silence above the tap-tapping of his feet on the flags.

Toby ran until things blurred; he had nearly doubled back to where he had started. By luck, and without knowing, ran into the right corridor Steve had not wanted him to go down. Within moments, he could see the throne room at the end of the corridor, and he stopped and hid behind one of the pillars so he could see what was going on before he rushed in. He peered around the edge of the pillar and was shaken by what he saw.

Cowering under the grip of two nasty looking goblins was a sobbing Hoggle. The dwarf's hat was knocked aside and his left sleeve was ripped off at the shoulder. Standing over the scene was a mighty Jareth, dressed in fine white silks and furs, his hair standing about him in a golden halo and one arm thunderously planted on his hip while the other held something Toby couldn't quite see. Behind them, piles of meat and fruits were stacked on gloriously spread tables. Welcoming candles flickered orange on the wall.

Toby looked harder, and could quickly saw that it was actually Hoggle's unrolled sleeve that the king was clenching. What the heck was going on? The voices were simply too far away, and Toby was afraid of going closer and giving himself up. The king's mouth was moving, now he could hear Hoggle's sobs interrupted by the echo of his old voice. As Hoggle spoke, the king's face grew more and more stony, and at this Toby finally gathered the bravery to face the king. He took a deep breath and stepped into the middle of the corridor; he had to confront the king about his niece.

Toby approached the throne room entrance, and looked up the steps into the frame. He could see everything so much clearer now, but the scene was surreal. Just as Toby was close enough to see Jareth, an unearthly, extraordinarily immense cry ripped through the king's throat. The sound of it pierced the rich quiescence of the realm and rippled throughout the Labyrinth; anyone in the Goblin Kingdom with ears could hear the obvious pain. As the sound rolled over and through everything, time itself was grieved to stop. Toby was frozen, his eyes fixed on the space where the face that erupted the scream had been.

But that face was no longer there.

* * *

_Author's note_: I hope you all are enjoying the story! I wonder where the king went, don't you? More to come soon!

:)


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